


Dina

by walkingparadise



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Coming Out, Coming of Age, F/F, F/M, M/M, contemporary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-07-18 16:18:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 35,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7322146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walkingparadise/pseuds/walkingparadise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Venice learns how to live on her own when her mother kicks her out of the house after finding out about her girlfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Let You In My Window

**Author's Note:**

> Please check trigger warnings in the beginning notes before reading.  
> [TW- Alcoholism. Language.]  
> [Other TW mentioned later in the story- Death. Blood. Drugs. Sex. Violence.]
> 
> [Dina - Sports](https://play.spotify.com/track/6h8902K3bu35UpmS0x5GBU)

[Eight Years Old.]  


“Mommy! Bryce pushed me!” Venice clung to her mother’s side, trying to hide from her brother who, despite being just one year older than her, was a foot taller than her.  


“No, I didn’t do that! She’s lying,” Bryce defended, smiling.  


“Bryce, stop bullying your sister,” their mother said, pulling Venice off her. “Where’s Morgan?”  


“She’s in her new room,” Venice said, watching Bryce from the corner of her eye. They were in the middle of a game of tag when Bryce had tackled her onto the street.  


Their mother leaves to monitor the movers handle the fragile items: mirrors, glass, etc. The four of them had just moved into town from across the country, looking for a fresh start. Venice’s mother, Ms. Moretti, had gained full custody of her three children after her and Mr. Rossi, her former husband, divorced. To Venice, the divorce seemed to happen for no other reason than karma for her bad behavior. She was much too young to understand why her father left, so nobody ever told her.  


Venice ran into the two-story townhouse and into the room she was sharing with her sister. She closed the door shut behind her so Bryce wouldn’t follow her in. Morgan was sitting on the floor of the empty room, looking out the window of their small backyard.  


“What are you looking at?” Venice asked.  


The seventeen year-old girl turned around, just noticing Venice in the room. “Oh, nothing. I’m just thinking.”  


Venice grew quiet, knowing exactly what she was thinking about.  


“Hey, come here.” Morgan held out her arm and Venice climbed onto her lap. “You don’t have to worry. Everything’ll be okay, Ness.”  


“I should be telling you that. You’re the one all mopey.”  


Morgan smiles and squeezes her arm. “C’mon, let’s help Mom with the furniture.”  


The girls head outside, but aren’t of much help. Morgan sits out on the steps to the front door, soaking up the sun after being cooped up in a car for hours. The drive from Florida to Massachusetts was too long for her. She had suggested they take a plane up, but her mother denied the request because of the luggage they had to carry and the money it would’ve cost.  


Venice wondered why they were moving so far away if they had no money to spare. Her mother told her that they had to move as far away from her father as possible, but Venice didn’t understand. _Why are we running away from Daddy?_ That was a question her mother couldn’t answer, not because there was no answer but because Venice couldn’t understand.  


Venice thought over the incident in her head as she explored the backyard, kicking the dirt and grass. “You always say I’m too young to know,” she mumbles to herself. She climbs the white, wooden fence and peeks into her neighbor’s house, having to stand on the tips of her toes just to get a good view.  


There were two people in the living room: a mother and her daughter. The mother was sitting on the couch watching television while the daughter, who looked to be around Morgan’s age, scribbled in a notebook. Venice watched in awe at the girl; she was gorgeous, more beautiful than any other girl Venice had seen before. Her brown hair was propped up in a messy bun and her clothes hung loosely off her slim frame. Venice watched her silently as she worked unknowingly.  


——  


“Let’s paint the walls,” Morgan suggests from the steps leading to the front door. The sun was beginning to go down, and the movers hurriedly transported the rest of the family’s belongings inside the townhouse, which wasn’t much. Morgan stands and follows her mother inside the house after thanking the movers.  


“We can’t, Morgan. How many times do I have to tell you we don’t have the time or the money?” Ms. Moretti refutes. “Listen, school starts next week and I need you to pick up Ness and Bryce everyday, okay?”  


“Alright, what’ll you be doing?”  


“Working.”  


After eating dinner at a local diner, the family headed back home to finish fixing up the house, though there wasn’t much to do. The movers had done all the heavy lifting, and the Morettis didn’t own very much.  


Venice returned outside to find the beautiful, young girl, but she wasn’t in the living room anymore. She was nowhere to be found, so Venice went back inside, a little disappointed. But her sadness quickly disappeared when she found Bryce and played some videogames with him.  


Morgan sat on her bed in her room. There was nothing in the room except her bed, Venice’s bed, a small desk, and a dresser overflowing with clothes, both her’s and Venice’s.  


She wished she never had to move away from Florida. For one, the weather in Boston was too cold for her, even in the summer. And, like most everyone else, she hated starting school in a new city; she hated the unfamiliar setting and the unfamiliar people. Most of all, she hated her father for leaving her mother—hated him for drinking all day and night, and hated him for sleeping with other women.  


Morgan sighed as she stared at her phone, waiting for a notification or text or call or something. But she knew no one was going to call her and no one was going to text her, because her friends back in Florida weren’t going to reach out to her. She barely knew them, so why would they? _They’re probably busy_ , she reasons with herself.  


Instead, she busies herself with drawing. She started drawing when she was twelve years old, when her mother gave her a sketchbook for her birthday. At first, she was frustrated with it because she couldn’t make anything look the way she wanted, but as she grew older she learned how to morph the sketches into what she wanted, or rather she grew content with the messy lines that seemed to come and end in oblivion. The rough lines and blurry images didn’t bother her anymore.  


——  


“What are you drawing?” Morgan heard from behind her, and she jumped, accidentally drawing a deep mark across the pencil sketch of the school courtyard.  


“Oh, shit. I’m sorry,” the girl laughed. She had long, brown hair and brown eyes that dug deep into Morgan’s drawing, as if trying to decipher a secret message in it. She gestured to the seat on the bench next to Morgan, asking for permission.  


“Go ahead,” Morgan offered with a shy smile. “I’m Morgan Moretti from Florida.”  


The girl laughed again as if what she had said was strange. “Hi, Morgan Moretti. I’m Heather Flores from Massachusetts,” she replies, mocking Morgan playfully. Morgan laughs to be polite.  


“That looks amazing. Your lines blur together, making everything shaky, unsure,” Heather notes, pointing at the building in the sketch and staring in awe.  


“Thank you, do you draw?”  


Heather looks up at Morgan. “Oh, yeah.” She takes out her own sketchbook and shows Morgan all her drawings. “I mainly draw portraits; landscape was never my thing.” She laughs lightly.  


After school, Morgan waits at the gates for Heather. They agreed to walk home together after discovering they lived fairly close to each other.  


“I need to pick up my siblings before I head home. The elementary school is just a block away, if you want to come,” Morgan says, nearly forgetting about Venice and Bryce.  


“Sure, why not? I’ve got nothing better to do.”  


When they arrive, they have to wait a few minutes for the kids to find them. Morgan sweeps the crowd of kids coming out of the gate and calls them over when she spots them. Heather watches Morgan thoughtfully with a hint of a smile on her lips.  


Venice spots Morgan immediately, not because she was calling her name but because of the girl standing next to her; Venice had recognized her the second she saw her. It was the beautiful girl from over the fence.  


“Ready?” Morgan asks once they arrive. Venice nods, still staring at the girl, who just notices her.  


“Who are these guys?” The older girl smiles at Venice and she becomes captivated, unable to look away. The smile makes the girl’s face look brighter, happier. Venice happily returns with her own smile.  


“That’s Venice and Bryce,” Morgan introduces them.  


“I’m Heather.” _Heather._ Venice turns the name over and over in her head, savoring it. It’s almost as beautiful as the girl.  


They begin walking back home. Morgan and Heather walk together, and Venice next to Heather while Bryce walks behind them, playing his Nintendo as he goes.  


“What grade are you in?” Heather asks Venice after noticing her stare.  


“Third grade,” Venice says cheerfully, happy she’s noticed.  


“Wow, so how was your first day?”  


“It was great! I met so many new friends. There was Ashley and Carrie and Jordan and everyone else.”  


“Sounds like you like it a lot here,” Heather replies, completely forgetting about Morgan walking beside her.  


“I do! I met a lot of cool people.”  


Morgan almost scoffs at Venice’s answer. _How can she love it here? Nothing feels right._  


“Boston’s a really cool city, of course you’d love it.” Heather smiles bright.  


——  


“Bye kids, I’m going to work now!” Ms. Moretti calls from the front door. She has two jobs, one in the day and one at night. With only her supporting the four of them, she figured she’d need more than one paycheck.  


Venice runs up to cast her off with a big hug, Bryce shouts goodbye from somewhere deep in the house, and Morgan walks with a wave.  


“Goodbye, Ness.” They let go of each other. “Morgan, I made some food in the fridge; just heat it up. I’m going to be back late, so get them into bed on time, okay?”  


“No problem.”  


Morgan returns to her room once her mother leaves. A couple weeks into school and she’s piled with more work than she can handle. She was never one of those kids who took five AP classes, but she wanted a change in this new home, so she started with two.  


Venice wandered out into the backyard again. She’s been peeking over the fence everyday, trying to catch a glimpse of Heather. After that first day, Heather never walked with Morgan to pick Venice and Bryce up. Venice was upset, but she couldn’t do anything about it.  


When she looked over the fence, Venice saw Heather in her backyard, and Venice quickly dropped down so she wouldn’t be caught. But Heather had been looking in Venice’s direction when she popped over the fence.  


“Venice?” she called. Her voice was smooth and graceful. Venice smiled, missing the sound of her voice after not hearing it for days.  


Venice pops her head back up with a shy smile.  


“Were you looking for me?” Heather asks, offering her own smile. “You want to come over?”  


Venice nods slowly.  


“Okay, go tell your mother and meet me at the front door.”  


Venice hesitates before saying, “Mom’s not home. Morgan is watching me and Bryce.”  


Heather smiles and laughs, though Venice doesn't know what’s funny. “Okay, go tell Morgan.”  


Venice runs to notify Morgan, and when her sister nods her off quietly, she runs over to Heather’s house.  


Heather leads her to her bedroom, and Venice gasps at the beauty of it. It wasn't extravagant or anything, but it was _Heather’s_ room.  


The walls were a deep maroon color, making everything else inside seem darker. There was nothing on the walls, not even pictures, which Venice thought was strange because there were always pictures hung up in her own house. The bed was messy, with fluffy pillows thrown all over and a big, white comforter, and the floor was littered with sketches of people she didn’t recognize.  


Heather sat down on her bed and watched Venice explore the room. “Did you want something before? When you were looking over the fence?”  


Venice blushes and looks away. “No.” She continues around the room, taking note of Heather’s desk, which was littered with notebooks and papers. Apart from the desk, the rest of the room was fairly neat and organized.  


“Did you draw these?” Venice asks, leafing through the loose papers on the desk.  


“Oh, yeah.” Heather gathers the papers quickly and shoves them in the top cabinet of the desk. “They’re just drabbles, nothing special.”  


“They look so pretty,” Venice says, trying to get a smile out of the other girl, and she does.  


“Thank you, Venice.”  


“My mom and Morgan and Bryce call me Ness. You can too.” Venice says, staring at Heather. “If you want,” she quickly adds.  


Heather sighs and shakes off the blank stare coming from Venice. “Okay, Ness. You want to get some ice cream?” Venice nods excitedly, just wanting to be around her.  


——  


“Where’s Ness?” Bryce stands in the doorway of Morgan’s room. She looks up from her drawing of the backyard. It wasn’t much because their backyard wasn’t much. There was only a single skinny tree surrounded by dead grass and the white fence enclosing the small space.  


“She’s next door with Heather. Are you hungry?”  


Bryce nods and follows Morgan to the cramped kitchen. She heats up some food for the them before going over to call Venice for dinner. She stands outside Heather’s front door, ringing the doorbell but getting no response.  


“Hey, Morgan. I forgot to tell you. I took Venice out for some ice cream.” Heather’s voice comes out rough from the phone.  


“Oh, I guess that’s no problem. Though don’t give her too much; she hasn’t had dinner yet.”  


Morgan and Bryce sit across from each other at the square dinner table. They scoop up small spoonfuls of the rice and stuff it into their mouths. Bryce sits with his Nintendo in one hand and the spoon in the other, while Morgan scrolls through pictures on her phone. All the photos are from Florida, ones she took with her friends. She goes through deleting all the old photos. There’s no use in keeping them anymore, no need to remember them anyway. Bryce’s videogame character grunts over and over again, filling the silence of the house.  


“When is Ness coming back?” he asks, growing bored of his game. He’s beaten the boss nearly five times already; the game is too easy, but it’s the only one he has. His mother only gets him games on his birthday, and his birthday isn’t until another four months.  


“Soon.”  


“Is Heather the same age as you?”  


“Yeah.”  


“So she’s seventeen, too?” He shuts off his game.  


Morgan nods, shoveling another spoonful of rice in her mouth.  


“I don’t know what’s so special about her. Ness spends all her time with her now. She never hangs out with me.”  


“What do you mean? Ness has been going over there a lot?” Morgan pipes up, curious now.  


“No, don’t you ever see her? She’s always on the fence, looking over. It’s like she _loves_ Heather.” Bryce scrounges his nose as if he smelled something bad. _Disgusting._  


“I guess I never noticed.” Morgan thinks back, trying to remember seeing Venice on the fence, but she doesn’t recall. Has she really not been paying any attention to her sister all this time?  


——  


“Did you know Ness has been looking over the fence to your house?” Morgan brings up. She hasn’t been able to shake the thought.  


The girls sit on the bench overlooking the courtyard, where they had first met. Heather’s long legs stretched out wide open as she scrolled through her phone on social media. She was slowing sipping her water bottle as she scrolled on.  


“I caught her once. Didn’t know she did it often.”  


“You don’t seem weird about it,” Morgan notes, touching up an old drawing of her home in Florida. She memorized every corner of the house and could still picture it clearly in her head after spending over a decade of her life there.  


“Well, she is in third grade. What is that—nine years old?”  


“Eight.”  


“Well, when I was eight years old I was doing all sorts of weird shit. And I don’t think being curious is very weird.”  


“I just feel kind of shitty for not realizing it until now. I mean, Bryce told me she’s been doing it for weeks. I’m supposed to be watching her, knowing where she is and what she’s doing.” Morgan scolds herself silently.  


“Don’t beat yourself up over it. And I’ll make sure to keep an eye out for her next time, make sure she’s safe.”  


Morgan glances at her and smiles appreciatively.  


——  


“When’s your birthday?” Venice asks, sitting on the floor of Heather’s room.  


“January 8th,” Heather replies. She’s sitting across from Venice with her sketchbook on her lap, drawing a portrait of the younger girl. Every couple of seconds, she looks up at Venice to reference her drawing.  


“What’s your favorite color?”  


“Dark green.”  


“What’s your favorite food?”  


Heather thinks for a moment. “Um, I don’t know. Bananas, maybe.”  


Venice is silent for a couple minutes, staring at Heather as she draws her. She notes Heather’s clothes: a bright green t-shirt from a summer camp she had once stayed at, grey sweat pants, and red socks with cute little slices of watermelon sewn on. Venice watched Heather’s skinny arm make gentle, graceful strokes along the page.  


“Do you have a boyfriend?”  


Heather pauses for just a second before returning to her sketch. “No, I don’t.”  


“I can be your boyfriend if you want me to, even though I’m not a boy.”  


Heather laughs. “That’s okay, Ness.”  


Venice’s heart sinks a little from the response, but she doesn’t show it. Instead, she stays still as Heather finishes the drawing, trying her best not to ruin it.


	2. It Makes Me Sick To My Stomach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [TW- Language.]

[Thirteen Years Old.]  


The boy moaned against Venice’s lips, grabbing her ass as he kissed her. Venice had her arms draped around the boy’s shoulder, kissing him back but not quite feeling what he was feeling. She could feel his hard dick press against her crotch under their jeans. He pressed his body closer to her, and she pushed back against him, breaking the kiss.  


“Is there something wrong?” Jack asked. His hot breath created a cloud of fog when it mixed with the cold December breeze. He had short blonde hair that was kept in a way that mirrored every boy in Venice’s class. And that was why she was dating him: he was exactly like every other boy.  


“It’s nothing, I just need to get home before my mom gets mad. You know how strict she is,” Venice says, running out of new excuses to get out of making out with him.  


“I’ll walk you home,” Jack offered, grabbing Venice’s hand.  


“It’s fine, really.” Venice tries to pull her hand away, but Jack’s grip is tight, almost hurting her. She meets his eyes shyly and nods, knowing he won’t take no for an answer.  


They head out of the empty school ground behind the last building. The only kids that visited that area were the ones looking to make out or have sex, but Venice never had sex before; the thought scared her. She couldn’t—didn’t want to imagine Jack’s naked body. She didn’t even want to kiss Jack, but that’s what Ashley and Carrie and Jordan and every other girl did; they liked boys and kissed boys and had sex with boys.  


“At least winter break is starting tomorrow, so we can see each other more often,” Jack says cheerfully as he continues to grip Venice’s hand a little too hard.  


Venice smiles and nods uncomfortably, though she doesn’t let it show. She’s been getting good at hiding her feelings ever since she started dating Jack.  


When they arrive at her house, they stand at the front door and smile at each other.  


“Bye,” Venice says and begins to reach for the doorknob.  


“Wait,” Jack says hurriedly. He grabs her hand away from the handle and kisses her hard. With his free hand, he grabs her waist and pulls her against him, and she can feel his crotch begin to grow again. Venice can’t help but notice the excess saliva coming from Jack’s mouth as he slobbers all over her.  


She pulls away again and smiles politely before waving goodbye and disappearing behind the door. Once the door is shut, Venice wipes her mouth with the back of her palm. She waits a couple minutes, then looks through the eyehole to make sure Jack had gone.  


When she’s sure he left, she calls out into the house. “Bryce?” There’s no reply; he must be out.  


It was Bryce’s first year in high school, and ever since he started the year he’s been out of the house more, hanging out with his friends or playing football. He was on the freshman team, which must mean he’s a good player because there were a lot of freshman who tried out and not many made the cut.  


Venice wondered about Bryce’s girlfriend and if she thought kissing Bryce was disgusting the way Venice thought kissing Jack was disgusting. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the thought. She _had_ to like kissing Jack.  


Venice entered her room, which was just her’s now because Morgan had moved away to college. She had gotten accepted into NYU, her dream school, and now lived in the dormitory there. She was offered a full scholarship to attend the school, which Venice thought was insane because she thought that only happened in the movies. But Morgan was very smart, and Venice wished she was as smart as her. It wasn’t like Venice was stupid; she often got good grades in all subjects, but she wasn’t as good as Morgan, maybe because she never really tried too hard in school.  


She stared at a drawing of her that peeks out of her notebook; it was the one that Heather drew of her when she was eight years old. She smiles sadly, wishing she would see Heather right now.  


Shaking it off, she walks into the kitchen to find something to snack on before her mother and Bryce come home for dinner.  


_Three more days_. Venice can’t wait until Sunday because that’s when Morgan and Heather come back from college to visit.  


Heather had gone to college at UC Berkeley in California, though she wasn’t granted a full scholarship like Morgan. But it didn’t matter because her family could afford to pay for the tuition and the plane fare and the living quarters. Venice video chats with Heather at least once a month. No matter how busy Heather is, she always makes time to hang out with Venice, which she appreciates. She loved Heather more than she loved anyone in the entire world.  


——  


“Let’s get dinner tomorrow night,” Bryce offers. His girlfriend, Sarah, walked beside him on the way to her house. She lived a couple blocks down from him, so he walked her home everyday after school. Mark taught him to do it, said girls liked it when their boyfriends walked them home. He met Mark on the football team and they became best friends, though they barely hung out now because Bryce was always with Sarah and Mark was always with his girlfriend.  


“At the diner?” Sarah was really pretty, and maybe that was why Bryce liked her.  


“No, I want to take you out for real.” He smiled, acting like a gentleman.  


“I don’t know, I’ve got plans.” She shoots him down. He shrugs and his smile slowly disappears.  


They grew silent after that, not knowing what to say to each other. Bryce had asked Sarah to be his girlfriend a couple months ago and she agreed, though they had next to nothing in common. They were young and naive, and the only thing that mattered was that Sarah was pretty and Bryce was on the football team.  


He dropped her off at her house and gave her a quick peck on the cheek before going back home. When he arrived, he found Venice sitting at the dinner table, staring out at the damp backyard. It had been raining for several days in a row, but that didn’t matter to Bryce; he liked the rain.  


He sat next to her and they nodded to each other in acknowledgement. Venice returned to her staring, and Bryce thought back to Florida. He thought it was amazing how two places could be so different from each other. Though, no matter how much he was fond of his hometown, he loved it in Boston. This was where he truly grew up; where he got his first girlfriend and where he started to become a man—where he belonged.  


“Morgan’s coming back on Sunday,” Bryce starts. He takes out his phone and scrolls through Twitter, reading notifications and tweets from all his friends.  


“So is Heather,” Venice adds.  


Bryce pauses for a second, almost forgetting about Heather. He hadn’t heard about her in months; the only time he sees her now is around Christmas and summer when she comes home.  


“Are you keeping contact with her?” he inquires.  


“I call her sometimes.” Venice tries to act subtle, not showing how much she’s still attached to Heather. One time, Bryce made fun of her for liking Heather, calling her a _lesbian_. Venice denied it, but he didn't listen to her. He went and told all his friends, which eventually spread to all her friends. And for a long time her only friend was Jordan, because she didn't care if Venice liked girls, no matter how much Venice denied it.  


Then Venice got a boyfriend at the beginning of eighth grade, a boy who had just moved to Boston and didn't know of the rumors of Venice. She wanted everyone to be her friend again. And they did, but only after they saw her and Jack kiss, as if it was proof that she really was straight.  


Bryce didn't say anything about Heather, though he wanted to. He wanted to tell Venice that it was disgusting she was still in love with a woman nine years older than her, and that it was even more disgusting that she was cheating on Jack. But he kept his mouth shut and left her sitting there alone, waiting.  


——  


On Friday, Jack met Venice at the same spot they had kissed the day before. School had just ended and he was excited to spend the next the day with her, just the two of them.  


“Hey, Venice.” He smiled. She thought about the way he said her name. Venice. He didn't call her Ness like her family, like Heather.  


He grabbed her hand and kissed her with his mouth open, but Venice only gave him a peck before turning away again. “Let's go to the diner,” she insisted.  


He hesitates. “Okay. My treat.”  


They sit in the crowded diner. Venice suggested they sit across from each other in the booth, but Jack insisted they sit right next to each other, so they sat next to each other.  


“So, you're leaving tomorrow?” Venice asks to start a conversation.  


“Yeah, we're going to Florida. My mom told me it doesn't snow there; I can even go swimming if I want.”  


Venice thinks back to when she used to live in Florida. It rarely ever rained there and the summers were always warm, but she doesn't tell Jack that. She never told him that she used to live in Florida; she never told him anything about her.  


They share an order of fries, though Venice doesn't eat much. When it grows close to dinner time, Jack walks Venice back to her house. His plane was leaving soon and he had to return home to gather his things.  


He grabbed her face and kissed her hard on the mouth. Venice kissed him back with her mouth open. He tasted like ketchup from the fries they shared earlier. Venice decided she didn't like kissing and she didn't want to do it anymore, but still she kept moving her mouth against his.  


This time Jack was the one to pull away. He smiled, showing his crooked teeth. “I'll miss you.”  


“I'll miss you, too,” Venice replies with less feeling. And then he’s gone.  


——  


“Kids, get in the car now or we’re going to be late!” Ms. Moretti calls from the driver’s seat. Venice comes out first and sits in the passenger seat behind her mother. Bryce walks out as well with his earbuds plugged into his phone, listening to some rock band.  


The drive to the airport wasn’t too long; it was only half an hour away. Everyone in the car was silent, minding their own business. Ms. Moretti drove, Bryce listened to his music, and Venice stared out the window, watching the trees and houses pass by.  


They arrive just on time as the passengers on Morgan’s flight were beginning to come out. The three of them stand excitedly, their eyes glazing over every face as they tried to spot Morgan. This was Venice’s favorite part: the moment when she saw Morgan for the first time since summer. It gave her a warm feeling inside, like a bonfire on a cold night.  


“There she is!” Venice exclaims, throwing her hands up to catch Morgan’s attention. Morgan spots them and walks over as fast as she can without tripping over any suitcases or other people.  


She hugs her mother first, almost shedding tears of joy. “Missed you so much,” she whispers in her ear. She moves on to Bryce with a quick half-hug, and then Venice, who squeezes her tightly.  


Their mother drives them home, and Morgan gasps as she stands on the sidewalk. She did this every year, as if she couldn’t believe what she saw. The house never changed throughout the time that she was gone, though.  


Morgan drops her small suitcase off in Venice’s room. She stays there every time she comes back, and although Venice enjoys having her own room she never complained because she wanted to be with Morgan as much as she could.  


They have dinner together and everyone laughs and smiles, even Bryce who normally doesn’t engage in the conversation at the table. Morgan tells them all about life at college, and Venice listens carefully, soaking up everything. She always loved hearing about college and what it was like, despite her not being very fond of school.  


Venice strays from the group after dinner and sits outside on the steps leading to the front door. She could hear the laughter from inside as Morgan and Bryce and her mother continue catching up on the couch. She wanted to be inside as well, but she’s waiting for Heather to arrive. She wanted to be the first person Heather sees when she comes back home, and she always was every year.  


Venice stands up when Mr. Flores’ car pulls down the street. She can already see Heather’s smiling face from inside the car, and before the engine has even shut off she’s out. Venice runs over to Heather and jumps into her arms. Heather grunts as she catches the younger girl. “Ness! You’re growing.” She laughs with her mouth wide open and her head thrown back. “Next year I won’t be able to catch you.”  


Venice listens to the sweet sound of Heather’s voice, mesmerized. She’s put back on her feet, and when she stands straight her eyes meet Heather’s chin. She was just a few inches shorter now, and she was still growing.  


They stand with each other for another five minutes until the darkness forces them to say goodbye. They would see each other tomorrow, but it was late and Heather was tired from traveling all day, so Venice left after a quick hug.  


——  


Heather doesn’t sleep much at night. She stands and stares at her old room; it's been too long since she's slept in this familiar room. She leafs through the papers in the sketchbooks she left behind; there were hundreds of rough drafts of random people she saw on the street. There were her old high school teachers and her old friends. She smiled as she looked through them, noted the small mistakes and awkward lines in some areas of the portraits.  


Her phone rang and she searched her backpack to find it. _Jodi_. She answered it with a growing smile.  


“Hey.” Her voice soothes into the microphone.  


“Hi, I wanted to know you got home safely.” The other girl’s voice was light; it complimented Heather’s.  


“That’s sweet, I actually just got home.”  


“Is it snowing over there?” Jodi’s never been to Boston, and Heather wanted her to come home with her this Christmas, but Jodi wanted to be with her family as well.  


“No, but it might at any second. I love it here; it feels more like home, though I wish you were with me,” Heather says into the phone. She smiles as she talks, already missing Jodi.  


“Maybe in a year or two,” Jodi promises. Heather’s smiles grow at the thought of another couple years with her. They've only been together for a month, but Heather loved her.  


“Well it's almost one in the morning here and I'm exhausted. I'm going to bed now.”  


Jodi laughs, completely forgetting about the time difference. “Alright, I'll call you tomorrow.”  


They hang up and Heather sits on her bed for a couple minutes just thinking about Jodi. She was her first girlfriend, and she made Heather feel right for the first time, made her feel like she belonged.  


She turns out the light to her room and strips down to her skivvies. She thought about when she used to sleep on this bed everyday in highschool, when she had her first crush on a girl. _Arya Simmons_. She was a grade older than Heather, and pretty too.  


Heather sat next to her in history class and they got to know each other fairly well. One day, Arya invited Heather to her house. That was where she had her first kiss with a girl. She was fifteen years old and very young, but old enough to know that she couldn't tell any of her friends about the kiss the way her friends told her about their kisses with boys. But she smiled to herself and laughed whenever she thought about it alone in her bedroom. And she smiles now, still thinking back on it.  


——  


Venice gets up early in the morning and walks to the cafe a couple blocks down from her house. She orders a cup of coffee for herself, green tea for Heather, and a dozen donut holes for them to share. Venice always got the two of them breakfast the day after Heather arrived, and Heather always anticipated that morning.  


They sit on the front steps of Venice’s house and eat the donuts together. Heather lies down and closes her dry, scratchy eyes. She had only slept for a couple hours, though she hadn’t done anything when she was awake. This had been happening for months now; most nights she wouldn’t sleep at all. And it affected her the next morning, but no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t fall asleep.  


“So, what’s up with you?” Heather asks, her eyes still closed.  


“Nothing important. Ashley moved away—I don’t know where to, but she moved. Though, I guess it doesn’t matter, because we never really talked. What about you?”  


“Me?” she sighs. “A little stressed out from last semester, but it’s better now.”  


“That’s good,” Venice takes a sip of her coffee, looking at Heather. Her slim body was lost under a cozy sweater and scarf. “Are you seeing anyone?” she asks, though she doesn’t know why.  


Heather doesn’t answer for a while, wondering if she should tell Venice. Finally, she opens her eyes and sits up facing Venice. She takes a sip of her hot tea, and Venice watches her breath mix with the cold air. “I am. Her name is Jodi.”  


Venice gives a half-smile, not letting her excitement show too much. She imagined she’d wish Heather was single, but the thought of Heather and Jodi was exhilarating.  


“Do you like her?”  


“I do, I like her a lot.” Heather opened her mouth to go on to say that she loved her, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She didn’t know why.  


It made Venice happy that Heather was dating a girl for some reason. Venice had crushes on girls sometimes as well, but they were small, insignificant. She didn’t _love_ girls, she didn’t even like them in that way, the way that Heather liked Jodi. She just liked being around girls. Yet, she still wondered if maybe she was like Heather, too.  


They are silent for a while, each battling the thoughts in their minds.  


“How about you, seeing someone?” Heather starts up again, pushing Jodi out of her mind.  


“Yeah.”  


Heather raises her eyebrows and waits, urging her to go on.  


“Jack Erikson. He’s okay, I guess. He’s in Florida now on vacation.”  


“Do you like him?”  


“No.”  


Before Heather can respond, Morgan takes a seat next to Heather, and Bryce runs out into the snow. He makes snowballs and chucks them down the road, as far away from him as he can. Venice meets Heather’s eyes for just a second before breaking away and joining Bryce; she didn’t want Heather to ask more questions about Jack. She and Bryce compete to see who can throw the farthest snowball, but it’s no competition. Bryce always wins.


	3. I Don't Know How Or If I Should Carry On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [TW- DEATH. BLOOD. Alcohol. Language.]

[Sixteen Years Old.]  


“I really like you.” Venice’s voice was shaky, saying those words out loud for the first time. She sat on the empty blacktop behind the school, and Cara Sinclair laid next to her with her head in Venice’s lap. She smiled, showing her perfect, straight teeth. It made Venice think of Jack and his crooked, yellow teeth. He broke up with her after eighth grade and started dating Jordan, which made Venice a little mad because Jordan was her friend—or she used to be. But Venice was also relieved because she wanted to break up with him for a long time and couldn’t find the courage to.  


Venice shook it from her mind; that didn’t matter now. Now she was older—a junior-turning-senior in high school—and she was with someone she liked talking to, liked being around.  


“I really like you, too.” Cara’s voice was strong, confident.  


Venice bent down and kissed her girlfriend, a peck on the mouth. It was different than when she kissed Jack; this kiss was gentle and sweet. She smiled because Cara was beautiful. They met at Cold Stone almost two weeks ago. Cara worked there and Venice would come in everyday for ice cream, though Cara suspected that it wasn’t just for the dessert.  


Cara asked her out first, because Venice was too nervous to do it. After ringing Venice up, she popped the question, and Venice froze for a second. Cara panicked and said sorry over and over again, even though she’d asked many other girls out before. Then Venice came to and said yes. They laughed about it now, the panic and the apologizing and the fear—it was funny now.  


It was the last day of school and the couple waited together as everyone cleared out of the school grounds. The graduation ceremony had just ended, and Venice had just watched Bryce graduate. He was heading off to college in a couple months; it was unbelievable. When the school grew quiet, they got up and left.  


Venice had to leave; she had a bus to catch later in the night. She was finally going to visit Heather in New York. After college, Heather moved to New York with Jodi. Venice didn’t know why she chose New York, and Heather wasn’t too sure herself either, but she did and she loved it. She invited Venice to visit and stay a couple nights, and Venice took the opportunity as soon as she could. So she was leaving for New York tonight. Morgan was going with her, because her mother couldn’t take time off work and Bryce didn’t want to see Heather. Venice thought it was because Heather was dating Jodi, and Bryce wasn’t exactly fond of gay people. That’s why Venice never told him about Cara; Venice never told anyone about Cara.  


They stood on the corner of the intersection where their paths split; Venice’s house was further north and Cara’s was a block east. Cara hugs Venice tightly, never wanting to let go. “I’ll miss you, Venice. Call me when you get there.” Venice nods.  


They kiss, another small peck, then they split. Venice wasn't scared to walk the rest of the way home alone; she did it almost everyday, though she heard countless stories of girls her age getting kidnapped or robbed in a city like Boston, and even more so in a city like New York. And Heather walked alone all the time in New York, so Venice figured she was safe. Still, she kept pepper spray in her backpack, just in case.  


Everybody was waiting for her when she got home. She hadn't realized how late she had stayed out with Cara.  


“Ness! There you are, I've been calling you for ages! We need to leave now or we’ll miss the bus.” Morgan’s already got her’s and Venice’s suitcase at the front door.  


Venice checks her phone. _Four missed calls._ “Sorry, my phone was on silent.” She goes up to her mother and gives her a big bear hug. “Bye, Mom. I'll see you next week.” She also hugs Bryce and murmurs and quick goodbye. Then she and Morgan leave for New York.  


They take a bus that operates all day long. It was nearly empty when they boarded. There were only two other people: a young woman who looked to be a little older than Morgan and a man in an all black suit sitting exactly three rows behind her. The man had a large beard that covered most of his face. Venice thought that if he shaved she wouldn't be able to recognize him. She watched him watch the woman in front of him; she had a bad feeling about him.  


After a couple stops down, the woman gets off of the bus and the man follows her off. Venice stands up, watching the two step down to street level.  


Morgan grabs her. “Where are you going?”  


Venice is pulled down, but she stands back up again. “Did you see the way that man was looking at her? I think he’s following her.”  


“Ness, sit down. That has nothing to do with you.” Morgan tugs at Venice’s backpack, but Venice continues to watch the man and the woman. When she stepped off, she turned right and so did the man, ten steps behind her; he was definitely following her.  


“We have to do something.” Venice hurriedly walks down the aisle, heading to the door. Morgan tries to grab her before she can get away but she’s too late. She grunts, taking the two suitcases and exiting the bus as well.  


“Ness, if we get off we won’t be able to leave until tomorrow when the bus returns,” she tries to convince her, but Venice doesn’t hear her. She’s focused on the man.  


Venice follows him with Morgan lagging behind, the distance between them growing until Venice turns the corner and disappears. “Ness!” Morgan turns the corner and she's gone, dissolved into the wind. A couple people walking along the sidewalk stare at Morgan, her two suitcases, and her frenzied, panicked look. She looks around, but there’s no Venice.  


The woman reaches the front door of some sketchy building in an alley and fumbles with the keys; she clearly knows the man has been following her. Venice kept a safe enough distance away from the two of them to not be seen. She hides behind a car on the street and watches the man slowly approach the woman, like a scene out of a horror movie. She wills her feet to bring her out behind the car and call out to the woman, but she’s frozen in place. She couldn’t even scream for her.  


Venice watched the woman start banging on the door, trying to get into the building, but there was no answer. She could hear the woman cry from where she stands, but she doesn’t do anything about it.  


The man pulls a knife out of the blazer of his suit and holds it firmly, displaying the shiny metal in the moonlight. When she died, no one except Venice knew because she didn’t scream. She didn’t scream because she couldn’t, because the man slit the woman’s throat once he reached her. The woman didn’t even fight back—she couldn’t. She just stood there as the man violently grabbed her arm and stabbed her.  


Venice gasped with her hand over her mouth to avoid making noise, though the streets were noisy enough to cover it. She fell behind the car and pressed her back to it, wanting to forget what she saw. She could’ve done something, told somebody. She could’ve saved that woman’s life. Her chest heaves up and down and her heart pumps fast, unable to slow down.  


She gains the courage to look back over the car again and finds the man searching the woman’s bag. He takes a large, yellow envelope that’s been folded in half and sticks it in his blazer along with the shiny metal knife.  


Before the man can see her, Venice takes off blindly running, not knowing where to go. _Morgan, you need to call Morgan. Call Morgan._ She repeats over in her head to keep from visualizing the woman’s blood spilt all over the hard concrete. She doesn’t stop running until she’s out of breath, and goes inside a one-person bathroom in a Burger King.  


Then she checks her phone. _Ten missed calls from Morgan._ She calls her and Morgan immediately picks up.  


“Ness, where the fuck are you?” Morgan screams into the phone. Venice can hear the street in the background, and she pictures the woman lying on the ground again. She shuts her eyes and squeezes them tight until they hurt.  


“Morgan.” Her voice is shaky. “I’m at a Burger King somewhere. I saw—I saw the man and he did something bad, something really bad, Morgan.” She paces the bathroom floor. She noted the white tiles; it wasn’t concrete.  


“What? What did you see?” Morgan’s voice was filled with fear, but not the kind that Venice felt.  


“It was really bad and it was everywhere; it’s _still_ everywhere—”  


“Ness, send me the location on your phone. I’m coming to get you, okay?”  


“Everywhere, it was everywhere and he didn’t even care—”  


“Ness?”  


Venice hung up without saying goodbye. She did as told and sent her location to Morgan.  


She looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was tangled, and her face was caked with dry tears. She washed her face and wiped it dry with the hard paper towel. It didn’t feel good against her skin.  


She stared at herself, but only saw blood, thick and almost black, seeping from the woman’s throat. The man cut her in a way that didn’t splatter all over him; he had clearly done it a million times before, like the way Venice tied her shoes so often she didn’t have to think about it. Instead, the blood slowly dripped down her neck and down her body and, when she fell to the ground with a sound crack, down to the concrete.  


Venice looked down at her hands and saw wet blood all over them, dripping onto her sneakers. When she looked back up at the mirror, her entire body from the neck down was covered in blood, still running fresh. She popped on the faucet and washed her hands over and over again, her breathing getting heavier. She splashed the water onto her neck and chest and jeans, trying to rid herself of the blood. But it didn’t matter what she did because the bright red liquid was still spilling out of an opening in her neck, never-ending.  


So Venice grabbed the paper towels and pressed them against her neck. Her fingers reached around her throat pushing harder and harder to stop the bleeding, but it continued. Her chest lifted up and down dramatically as she took large breaths, finding it harder to breathe the longer her fingers wrapped around her throat. She was starting to cry again as she pressed against her windpipe.  


Then there’s a knock at the door. “Ness?” Morgan’s familiar voice calls from the other side. She tries for the door handle, but it’s locked.  


Venice looks back at herself in the mirror and the blood’s gone. There’s nothing but brown paper towels and her fists around her neck. She lets go, finally able to breathe properly, and opens the door.  


Morgan grabs her immediately and pulls her into a hug. “Fucking hell, Venice. Don’t ever do that again.” She gets a good look at Venice, who’s shaking all around. “What happened? Are you hurt? Why are you wet?” She throws one question after another.  


“Can we leave first?” Venice notes the few people in the joint staring at the two of them. Morgan nods, ushering her out of the bathroom and into the night.  
——  


It was nearly midnight when Jodi came home. Heather heard the door lock click from her desk in the living room. It was a small apartment with only a living room, a bedroom, a bath, and a kitchen. But Heather didn’t mind the space, she even liked it.  


She had been planning a meeting with a witness for Ms. Estrada, her boss. Ms. Estrada was a defence attorney, currently working on a case for a man charged with assault on two women. Though it wasn’t her job, Heather was invested in the case herself, trying to find some sort of evidence that proves the young man innocent; it’s what she’s been working toward her whole life.  


“Where have you been?” Heather gets up from the desk. She watches as Jodi’s steps wobble from the door to her, nearly tripping along the way. Before she can fall, Heather crosses the distance between them and grabs her drunk girlfriend, supporting the two of them.  


“You fucking stink,” Heather says under her breath. She’s mad, of course. Her girlfriend almost always came home late, sometimes drunk sometimes not. She never told Heather about where she went or what she was doing.  


Despite her anger, Heather walked Jodi to their room and helped her get situated in bed.  


“Oh, shit. I forgot your friends were coming over tonight,” Jodi whispered, as if someone was listening to them. Heather couldn’t tell if she genuinely forgot or if she was just lying. That’s the thing with Jodi: she’s an excellent liar.  


“They didn’t show up.” She left the room, letting Jodi sleep off the alcohol, and returned back to her desk.  


She checked her phone, hoping Venice or Morgan called her to let her know what’s going on, but there was nothing. She had called herself a couple times, but they didn’t pick up. It wasn’t like Venice to not answer her phone, especially when it was Heather calling.  


She returned to her work, leafing through the papers of the case. Venice and Morgan can wait until morning.  


——  


Despite what she saw last night, Venice slept soundly in the cheap motel room. Morgan watched her sleep as she sipped her coffee. It was almost nine in the morning, and 

Morgan had gone out to buy some breakfast before they headed out.  


She thought back to the night before. Venice hadn’t told her anything of what happened when she disappeared. All she knew what that Venice was scared.  


“Hey, Ness.” Morgan shakes her arm. “Time to get up.”  


Venice rubs her eyes. She still looked tired, like she hadn’t just slept for ten hours straight. She sits up with her tired eyes and stares at Morgan.  


“When is the bus arriving?” she asks.  


“You still want to go to New York?” Morgan planned to go back home after everything that happened.  


“Yeah, why not? I want to visit Heather.”  


“Are you sure? What happened last night, Ness?”  


“Nothing, I was worried about the woman. I thought the guy was going to do something to her, but they split paths at the end of the street.”  


Morgan stares at her disbelievingly. “Why were you so scared when you called me? You said the man did something bad, and it was everywhere?”  


“My eyes must’ve been playing tricks on me. He didn’t do anything, I swear.” Venice didn’t know why she lied. Maybe because she didn’t want Morgan to worry. There was nothing she could do about what’s happened anyway. “I swear.”


	4. Pull Back The Curtain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [TW- Blood. Alcohol. Drugs. Language.]

Venice and Morgan arrive in New York at noon. They stopped by Heather’s apartment, but nobody was home. Morgan had finally called Heather to let her know they were arriving in the morning, to apologize for the delay, though Heather didn’t mind. What was one day after all?  


They spent the day going around New York instead, or at least going wherever they could bring their luggage around. They shopped mostly, because they weren’t allowed to bring their things into any other buildings. But Venice never bought anything; she had money to spend, but she couldn’t think about sifting through clothes. The only thing she could see was the blood spilt all over the grey concrete alley.  


“What’s wrong?” Morgan stared at her curiously. They sat at a cafe across from Heather’s apartment, waiting for her to come home. Venice was tired from lugging their bags around all day, so they waited the rest of the time. Heather told them she’d be home in less than an hour.  


“Nothing. I’m just tired from all this.” She gestures to the luggage. It wasn’t a lie. She thought about Heather and wondered how she got around the city; if she took a taxi everywhere or the subway or if she walked. Venice couldn’t imagine walking alone in the city.  


Venice spotted Heather right when she arrived. She didn’t take a cab; she walked.  


“Heather Flores!” Venice stood up and waved her hand from across the street. She didn’t care that everyone around her stared at her.  


Heather waved back and waited as Venice and Morgan crossed the street to meet her. Venice jumped into her arms, just as she used to do when Heather visited home every year.  


“Ness, I’ve missed you,” Heather sighed as she held Venice. She invited them into the apartment and Venice gasped when she saw it.  


It was everything she imagined it would be, which wasn’t much, but Heather made so little look so good.  


“I’m not sure when Jodi’s getting home; it’s different everyday,” Heather lies, “but I can’t wait for you to meet her. She’s really sweet.”  


“Thank you for letting us stay, Heather. And sorry for not calling last night; it was a little hectic,” Morgan says from the couch.  


“Oh, it’s really no problem. I’m sorry about the mess, by the way,” Heather apologizes.  


Venice wonders why because the house was clean. The only mess was on the desk in the far corner. She walked up to it and looked at the papers, expecting tons of drawings because that was always on Heather’s desk, but there were none. They were documents and descriptions of whatever Heather was working on.  


“What are these?” Venice asks.  


Heather hurriedly shuffled up the papers and shoved them into a paper folder, hiding her work. “Just work stuff. I’ve been working on a case with my boss; I’ll spare you the details.” She laughs nervously. “But, anyway, you guys can settle in here. I don’t have an extra bedroom, sorry.”  


Morgan tells her it’s no problem and Heather excuses herself to the kitchen to make dinner. Morgan offers to help and Heather declines, but she helps anyway.  


Venice ventures off into Heather and Jodi’s room to explore the rest of the apartment. There’s not much in the room; there are no pictures hung up, not even art. The apartment started to seem too plain to be Heather’s, but Venice didn’t ask about it.  


There were two nightstands on either side of the bed, and Venice immediately knew which was Heather’s side. There was a drawing of half of a woman’s face, Venice couldn’t make out who it was, and a pencil lying on top. Next to the drawing were pill bottles, not prescription pills but over-the-counter ones. _Unisom SleepTabs_. She opened them and looked inside; there were only a few left.  


When she went back out, Morgan and Heather were talking about something. Morgan took a sip of beer.  


“Can I have one?” Venice asks, nodding to the bottle.  


“You’re sixteen years old,” Heather says as if that was enough.  


“So? I’ve had beer before.” Heather and Morgan stare at her.  


“What? I’ve been to a party before, I know what’s good.”  


“Well, then I guess you’d prefer vodka?” Morgan says sarcastically.  


“Maybe I do.”  


Heather laughs. “Beer’s in the fridge.”  


Venice knew Heather would be cool with it.  


“No, Ness, you can’t,” Morgan butts in before Venice can get to the fridge. “Go get soda or something.”  


Heather shrugs and takes a swig of her own bottle.  


“Aren’t you not supposed to drink?” Venice sits on the counter with her legs dangling off the side.  


“What do you mean?” Heather turns back to the stove, fixing up plates.  


“Those sleeping pills?”  


It takes Heather a couple seconds to realize what she’s talking about. “Oh, I’m not on those right now,” she lies.  


They finished up dinner and cleaned all the dishes before Jodi got home. Some time into the night, Heather slipped outside and called Jodi to make sure she came home early and sober.  


“Jodi, where are you?” she whispered harshly into the phone. Ever since they moved in together, she’s been getting more and more angry at Jodi. And she should be; Jodi was too careless, too soft-spoken, too little. That was what Heather liked about Jodi when they first met, but living with it was different. It wasn’t cool or exciting; it was tiring.  


“I’m coming home right now.” The girl’s words slurred together through the phone and Heather knew she was drunk, if not then a little tipsy.  


“You promised you wouldn’t drink today. Morgan and Ness are here.” Heather began panicking; she didn’t want them to know about Jodi’s problem.  


“Relax, I just had one drink. I’m sure your friend’s will be fine with it.”  


“Just come home.” Heather hung up without saying goodbye.  


Jodi came back half an hour after their phone call, and she had a little more than just one drink. Venice immediately recognized her; she was the woman from the drawing on Heather’s nightstand, of course. Jodi began to strip off her clothes until she realized everyone staring at her from the living room.  


“Jodi.” Heather’s voice was a little angry if anyone was searching for it, and Venice was searching for it. Heather apologized to Morgan and Venice, and brought Jodi to the bedroom.  


Morgan and Venice didn’t say anything about it when Heather returned from the bedroom. She apologized again and again for Jodi, who was sleeping soundly in their bedroom, and Morgan told her not to. It made Venice think of Jack Erikson, though she didn’t know why.  


It wasn’t long until Morgan checked out; she was getting tired of talking about nothing. Everyone was already in their own world. Heather kept on thinking about Jodi and how she didn’t even greet Morgan or Venice or even Heather. Venice couldn’t get Jack out of her mind, which reminded her of Cara, so she stepped out to call her. Morgan went to tidy up in the bathroom and returned to the floor by the couch. They had decided that Morgan would sleep on the floor and Venice would take the couch.  


Heather went outside after a few minutes to check on Venice and found her staring out into the night. It was cold, but Venice didn’t mind; she always liked the cold.  


“What are you doing?” Heather asked, standing next to her and staring out as well. “You didn’t seem too happy in there.”  


“Sorry, I forgot to call my girlfriend.”  


“You have a girlfriend?” Heather glances at her.  


Venice nods. “Cara Simmons.”  


“Good for you.”  


They’re silent for awhile, then Venice asks, “How are things with Jodi?”  


“They’re great,” Heather says a little too quickly. “Why do you ask?”  


“I think you know.”  


Heather smiles a little. “You’re a smartass, did you know?”  


“Not really. But seriously, you seem a little—I don’t know—disconnected with each other. Are you okay?”  


Heather was close to tears, but the night masked her face from Venice. It was the shaky voice that gave her away. “I will be, I hope.”  


Venice grabs her hand. She never thought things would be terrible with Heather. It was _Heather_. She was supposed to be strong and confident and amazing, but now her four-year relationship was falling apart and she was taking over-the-counter sleeping drugs and mixing them with alcohol. Venice didn’t want to guess what else was going on in Heather’s life.  


“I’m sorry,” Venice whispered.  


“It’s not your fault, Ness.”  


Late at night, when all the lights turned out, Venice listened to Heather through the thin drywall. Morgan was already sleeping, but Venice could tell Heather wasn’t, even though there was no noise from the other side of the wall. She knew Heather couldn’t sleep; she knew before she even saw the pills on her nightstand.  


Heather sat on the bed with the half-sketch of Jodi on her lap; she couldn’t finish the drawing, or didn’t want to anymore. She grabbed the sleeping tablets sitting beside her and stared at them. She was starting to feel a little dizzy from the alcohol, a side effect of the drug and alcohol interacting. She knew better than to mix them, but sighed and took another pill before trying to sleep again.  


——  


Bryce sat on the couch with his arm around his girlfriend. His mother was at work, so he invited Jean over to his house. They were watching a movie playing on the television, but neither of them really paid any attention to what it was about. Bryce kissed Jean with his tongue in her mouth, and moaned deep into her. She climbed on top of him, completely shutting out the tv now. He trailed kisses down to her neck as she rolled her hips against his, feeling his dick through his pants. He lifts her up in his arms and carries her into his bedroom, all while still sucking on her neck.  


He didn’t think much of it as he took his clothes off. He had done this many times before, and so had Jean. And afterward, he held her until she had to leave for work. Bryce drove her to work and kissed her again in the car.  


“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jean said before exiting the car. He waved her off and watched her past the glass door of the store.  


“Hey, it’s you.” Cara jumped in front of Bryce’s car, blocking his view of Jean.  


“Who are you?” Bryce wasn’t anything short of rude.  


“You’re Venice’s brother, right? What was your name again? Brian?” Cara asked, ignoring his question.  


“Bryce. Who the hell are you?” he repeated more sternly.  


“Cara, you know, Venice’s girlfriend. We never met, but Venice always tells me so much about you.” She smiles, pleased to meet him for the first time even though Bryce wasn’t exactly nice.  


“Ness has a girlfriend?” he asked disbelievingly.  


“Venice never told you about me?” Her smile faded a little.  


“No, that’s fucking disgusting.” Bryce said quickly and drove off before Cara could say anything else. He held the steering wheel tight in his hand, unable to get Venice and Cara out of his mind. All he could think of was that repulsive girl and his baby sister.  


——  


The week wasn't what Morgan and Venice was expecting. They mainly explored New York on their own because Heather and Jodi couldn't get time off work. Venice was a little disappointed because she only ever saw Heather at night, and even then she was preoccupied with more work. Though she could tell Heather was always a little out of it because of the drugs she took. One day, Venice snuck into the bedroom and stole a pill, sticking it in her jean pocket.  


Heather apologized countless times for not spending more time with them while they were there, and Morgan and Venice promised that there was no problem. They enjoyed their stay.  


“You must be excited to go back to Boston,” Heather said. She and Venice sat outside the apartment, leaning against the cool wall. It was late and Morgan and Jodi were already asleep inside. Venice and Heather have been staying up together; mainly because Venice knew Heather wasn't going to sleep.  


“No, I like it here. I’d want to live here.”  


Heather smiled. “Well, if you ever need a place to stay I've got you.”  


Venice looked at Heather, her face barely illuminated by the dim light beside the front door. She grabbed her hand and played with it, lightly dragging her fingers around Heather’s palm. Heather’s breath caught in her throat, she knew what was going to happen next; she always knew it would happen, but dreaded the moment it did.  


“Heather.” Venice’s voice was soothing and comfortable, not anxious at all.  


“Ness,” Heather tried to cut her off, to tell her not to say anything, but she couldn’t. Instead, she waited for Venice to speak.  


“Heather Flores, I think I'm in love with you,” Venice finished. The two were silent for a while. Heather didn't know how to tell Venice that she didn't feel the same way. She let Venice continue to touch her hand, unable to pull away.  


“Ness, I love you too, but—”  


Venice lunged forward and kissed Heather on the lips, not hard like Jack but soft like Cara.  


Heather jumped up and took a few steps away from Venice, scolding herself for letting Venice get too caught up with her. Venice sat there, staring at the space where Heather was. She was close to tears.  


“I’m sorry, Ness,” Heather said as if she was wrong for leading her on. She opened her mouth to remind her about Jodi, but thought better of it. She was in no position to defend herself with Jodi; they barely ever spoke to each other. Maybe that's why Venice got the idea that Heather loved her the way she loved Heather.  


That was the last night Morgan and Venice stayed over.


	5. Don't You Cry They Can't Hurt You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [TW- Violence. Death Mention. Blood. Language.]

Venice and Morgan were on the first bus back to Boston.  


After Venice made a move on Heather, they went to bed, though neither of them slept. Venice couldn’t stop thinking about Heather, scolding herself for acting on her emotions. On top of her rejection, Venice was with Cara; she shouldn’t have feelings for another woman.  


She lied on Heather’s couch and thought about Heather’s reaction to the kiss. Venice couldn’t make out her expression in the dark, but the way she moved was cautious, as if Heather didn’t know exactly what to do about Venice. Maybe Bryce was right when he told her she was delusional and disgusting for loving a woman nearly a decade older than her, for loving a woman at all. She tried to shrug the thought and decided to swallow the sleeping pill she snagged from Heather’s room. She wanted to fall asleep and forget everything that just happened.  


They arrived back home just after noon and found a single large suitcase standing next to the front door.  


“What’s that?” Venice asks, nodding to the luggage. Morgan shrugs, just as lost as Venice.  


“We’re home,” Morgan calls out into the house when they open the door.  


Immediately after, Ms. Moretti comes from the kitchen and catches Venice’s arm in a tight grip. “You little bitch!” She slapped her right across the cheek, leaving a stinging red mark.  


Venice shrieked and grabbed her face in pain. “What did I do!”  


Her mother slammed the front door shut, locking them inside, and slapped Venice again, harder this time. Morgan tried to intervene, placing herself between the two of them, but was pushed out.  


“Mother, stop it! What happened?” Morgan asked.  


“You think you can go around with a girl behind my back?” Ms. Moretti screamed into Venice’s ear as she shook her. Venice was crying hard, shutting her eyes so she won’t have to see her mother.  


“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Venice tries to reason, but receives another stinging slap.  


“Don’t fucking lie to me! Bryce told me about that whore Cara!” She pushed her to the front door, where she had just arrived moments earlier. “Get out now!”  


Venice looked back in horror and so did Morgan. “Mom, no! Please, I don’t know what Bryce is talking about! Cara is just a friend!” Venice ran back to her mother and clung to her as if she was quickly disappearing, which, in a way, she was.  


Her mother just screamed more about Cara and what a disgrace Venice was. She didn’t even bother hitting Venice anymore. “Take your suitcase and leave, Venice!” She grabbed her daughter and shoved her out of the house with much difficulty. She slammed the door shut, leaving Venice crying and banging from the other side.  


Venice used her house key to unlock the door, but was just shoved out again after her mother snatched it from her hands. She stood out there and cried, refusing to leave. She didn’t care that people were staring at her.  


Inside the house, Morgan snapped awake after being paralyzed with confusion and horror. She went after her mother, who returned to the kitchen.  


“Mother, you can’t just kick her out like that. That’s your daughter!” Morgan tried to convince her to let Venice back inside.  


“Not anymore! And if you let her in this house I will kick you out as well!” Ms. Moretti went back to cooking. She smirked a little, too, because she knew Morgan wouldn’t help Venice. She was too dependent on her mother’s financial support.  


Morgan grunted in anger and half-ran, half-walked to Bryce’s room. He had been sitting inside and listening to the entire thing as it went down. Even from here Morgan could still hear Venice’s sobbing. She grabbed Bryce from his chair and slammed him against the wall, making the photos hung on it shake.  


“You told Mother about Cara and Ness,” she said in the most threatening voice she could manage.  


Bryce laughed in her face. “I can't believe you're fucking defending that cunt. You’re just as disgusting as Ness.”  


“Fuck you.” Morgan thinks about punching him in the face as her fist closes around his shirt, but decides against it and leaves the room.  


Venice sat leaning against the front door until it turned dark out. She could hear her family having dinner through the door and grabs her stomach in hunger. She would wait here until they open the door; they’ll have to sooner or later.  


At around eleven at night, Morgan sneaks out of the house with some dinner. They had pasta and it was cold when Venice ate it, but she didn't care; she was just happy to have some food.  


“I'm sorry I didn't come sooner, sorry I didn't stand up for you.” Morgan watches Venice as she eats.  


“It's not your fault. And you did stand up for me. I could hear you through the door,” Venice said in between mouthfuls of pasta.  


“Come sleep inside. I'll have you up and out before Mother wakes.”  


“No, I can't do that. I don't want you to get kicked out because of me.”  


They argued about it for a long time, but Venice wouldn't budge. There was no way she was going to bring down Morgan with her. Morgan had yet to get a decent job or move out of the house. Venice didn't want to mess that up.  


“Where will you sleep?”  


Venice thought about Heather and her offer to take care of Venice, but she didn't know if that still held true after last night. She assumed Heather wanted nothing to do with her after their kiss. “I'll go to Cara, alright? Don’t worry about me, Morgan. I’ll be fine, I swear.”  


“Ness, I’m so sorry for all of this.”  


“It’s not your fault.”  


Morgan holds Venice’s cold hands in her warm ones. “You should know it’s not your fault either, Ness. You don’t have to feel guilty for loving who you love.”  


Venice finished up the last of her meal and stood up, finally ready to leave.  


“Are you sure you don’t want to stay here?” Morgan stood up with her.  


Venice nods, determined.  


“Listen, Ness, be careful. Call me if you ever need anything: food, a place to stay, money, whatever. And here.” She handed Venice a thick roll of cash.  


“Holy shit, Morgan. Where'd you get all this?” The stack feels heavy in Venice’s hand.  


“I've been saving it up from work, but you can have it. You need it more than I do.”  


“I can't—”  


“Ness, just take it. And if you ever need more I'll give it to you.”  


Venice thanks her and they hug for what feels like a lifetime. Venice didn't want to let go.  


“Don't be afraid; I've got you,” Morgan whispers into her ear.  


But Venice wasn't scared at all. Even after watching the man kill the twenty-something-year-old woman, after losing Heather in some way, after being kicked out of her own home—despite all that, she wasn't scared.  


Venice is the first to pull away. “I'll see you tomorrow.”  


——  


Venice stands in front of Cara’s house, right under her bedroom window. She takes out her phone and calls Cara. It took a couple minutes for Cara to wake up and answer, but she did eventually.  


“Venice?” she asks with a sleepy voice.  


“Cara, can I come in? I need a place to stay,” Venice whispered as loudly as she could without breaking the silence of the night.  


“Go home, Venice.”  


Venice grunted, getting tired of the day. “Cara, I can't go home. My mom kicked me out.”  


That woke Cara up. She told Venice to wait and quietly snuck out the front door.  


“Oh, fuck, Cara.” Venice noticed the purple bruises all over Cara’s face as she finally got a good look at her. “What the fuck happened?”  


“You want to know what happened? Your fucking brother and his friends came around one day and fucking kicked me until I couldn't breathe. Told me I was worthless and disgusting and all,” Cara whispered harshly. If it wasn’t night time, she’d be screaming the words out to Venice.  


Venice reached out to comfort her, but Cara jumped away from her. “Please, don’t touch me.” She was on the verge of tears.  


“Cara, I’m so sorry. I never wanted that to happen to you. I promise I won’t let that happen again.” She wanted to hold Cara, but Cara wouldn’t let Venice anywhere near her.  


“I’m not doing this, Venice.” Cara crosses her arms.  


“Doing what? What do you mean?” Venice began to panic; she already lost her best friend and her family, she didn’t want to lose her girlfriend as well.  


“ _This._ ” Cara motions between the two of them. “I can’t be with you.”  


“Cara, I’m sorry about Bryce, but I had no idea he would do something like that. Please, Cara,” Venice begged. She took a step toward Cara, who took a step away from her.  


“It’s not even about your brother; it’s about the fact that you lied to me. You couldn’t even tell me that you weren’t out to your family. And so I, like the idiot I am, walked up to your brother and said hello. If you would’ve just _told_ me none of this would happen. I mean, what else do I not know about you? I just can’t be with someone who’s keeping secrets from me.”  


“Cara, c’mon. I’m sorry. I’ll tell you everything you want to know right now, please.”  


Cara shakes her head and enters the house, leaving Venice begging and crying her name over and over again, though not disturbing anyone in the house.  


She wiped her tears and sighed. She couldn’t believe everything that was happening. She ran away from Cara’s house, away from anything familiar. She didn’t know what to do.  


Venice ended up at a Burger King that was open all day long. She shuttered at the thought of the last time she was at a Burger King, after she saw the man with the beard. Then she laughed a little because it seems she’s always here when things go south.  


She ordered a soda to avoid being kicked out of the joint and sat at one of the back corner tables that lined the wall. There was only one other person in the restaurant this late at night: the employee. There wasn’t even anybody out wandering the streets, which seemed odd because there was almost always people on the street, no matter how late it was.  


_Call Heather._ Venice stared at her phone, twirling it around on the table, but she was too scared to dial Heather’s number. It was late, but she wasn’t tired at all, maybe because of everything that’s happened.  


She takes a sip of her Coke and gives up, finding Heather’s contact on her phone. It doesn’t matter what Heather thinks of her right now; what matters is that Venice has a place to live. As the phone rings, she glances at the front of the store. The employee was staring at Venice and her suitcases before quickly looking away and disappearing further into the kitchen.  


“Ness?” Heather’s groggy voice came through. Venice froze for a moment, letting Heather’s voice ring in her head.  


“Heather, something happened and somehow my mom found out about Cara and she kicked me out of the house and then I went to Cara’s house to stay the night but she hates me now because my stupid fucking brother attacked her and now I’m in a Burger King and there’s no one here and I’m scared and—”  


“Woah, woah, Ness. Slow down.” Venice could hear music playing through the phone, though she wasn’t sure exactly what song was playing. But of course Heather would be awake, despite her sleepy voice. “What happened?”  


“My mom isn’t speaking to me and isn’t letting me live in the house. I have nowhere to go.”  


“Go to my parents. They’ll let you stay the night for sure. I’ll call them right now.”  


Venice sips on her Coke and looks out at the street. There were a few people outside now. A man and a woman walked together past the fast-food joint, and another man stood just outside the door as if he was waiting for something. He looked a little like the man with the beard, except he wasn’t wearing a suit; he wore street clothes: a flannel and jeans. Venice’s palms grew sweaty as she thought about that night again. “Heather, I think someone’s following me.”  


“What? Who?”  


Venice gets up and leaves the Burger King, tossing the full cup of soda into the trash. She walks past the man with her head down, quickly dragging the suitcase behind her.  


“Ness?” Heather’s voice is urgent in her ear. Venice doesn’t look back until she turns the corner, and when she does no one is behind her. She almost sighs in relief and looks straight ahead of her, where another man stands staring off into the distance.  


“There’s a man standing about a block down from me. I think he’s staring at me,” Venice whispers into the phone.  


“Turn around.”  


“I can’t. There was another man behind me. I turned the corner so he can’t see me anymore, but he’s there waiting.” Venice started to shake, thinking about the woman and the blood on the cold concrete floor.  


“Do you have anywhere else to turn? A street on the right? Left?” Venice could hear Heather’s breath come in heavy through the speaker.  


Venice looked left and right. There were men on both sides of the street, some with women, some with other men, some alone, but all looked menacing to Venice. “Heather, they’re _everywhere._ I don’t know what to do.” Venice was stopped in her tracks, waiting for Heather to tell her what to do.  


“Oh god, okay. Ness, is there a hotel nearby? Or just any building that you can go into? Or is there someone you can walk up to, tell them about your situation?” Heather spoke quickly and loudly into the phone. Venice couldn’t hear the music in the background anymore.  


There was a hotel right across the street, and Venice walks quickly to it, constantly looking around her to see if the men were watching her. She felt all their eyes on her, but none of them approached her.  


“I’m checking into a hotel.”  


“Ness, I’m coming to you right now.” Venice could hear wind caught in the receiver, making Heather’s voice blurry.  


“No, Heather. Listen, I’m fine. I’ll be safe in the hotel room; you don’t have to come. I’ll get on the first bus to New York tomorrow morning, okay?”  


“I’m not leaving you there alone.”  


Venice approaches the receptionist, whose eyes dragged on the long night shift. “Wait,” she says into the phone.  


Venice didn’t come back to the phone until she entered the hotel room. She looks through the eyehole to make sure the hall was empty. “Heather?” she asks to see if she was still on the line.  


“Ness, I’m in a cab. I’ll be there in a couple hours; just send me your location.”  


“I told you—” Venice grunts in frustration. “Okay. I’ll be in room 226. Call me when you get here.” They hang up and Venice sends her location to Heather.  


She tosses her phone onto the bed and goes to the bathroom to wash her face. Her hands shake as the cool water runs over them. _You’re fine._ Those men weren’t after her, she only thought they were. She stares at the water slipping through her fingers, but only sees the woman and the blood.  


“I could’ve done something, could’ve saved her.”


	6. Without You, Don't Want It To Be Normal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [TW- Death Mention. Language.]

Heather knocked on the hotel door at about four thirty in the morning. Venice looked through the eyehole to see who it was, checked it three times before actually opening the door.  


The first thing Heather did was wrap Venice in a tight hug. “Ness, you scared me,” she whispered. It reminded Venice of the night of the man with the beard, and how Morgan hugged Venice just as tight when they reunited. Venice closed her dry, red eyes and enjoyed Heather’s embrace. It felt like home.  


“Did you sleep at all?” Heather closes the door and leads Venice to the bed.  


“I couldn’t. They were coming for me.”  


“Who was?”  


“The men on the street. I swear they were following me.”  


Heather grabs her hand. “Ness, there was nobody following you. You just need some sleep.”  


“No, Heather. You don’t understand. Last week I saw—” she hesitated, debating whether or not she should tell Heather about the man with the beard. She didn’t even tell Morgan of him. “I saw a man kill a woman, slit her throat and let her bleed out on the ground.”  


“God, Ness. What are you talking about?” Venice noticed Heather’s slouched back straighten.  


“Morgan and I were on our way down to New York, and there was a man on the bus. He had this enormous beard and a fancy suit on, and he was staring at a young lady. She couldn’t be more than thirty years old. And when she got off the bus he got off as well, so I followed them. God, why did I follow them? I watched him kill her and I didn’t do anything. I just ran.”  


“Hey, that’s okay—good, even. If he had seen you, you might not be here right now. It’s okay if you didn’t do anything.” Heather didn’t know how else to comfort Venice, so she just hugged her.  


Venice wanted to cry again in Heather’s arms, but she couldn’t; her eyes burned. She sat there, letting Heather hold her. She would’ve enjoyed it more on different terms, but she was too sad now to feel anything for Heather.  


“You can’t tell anyone.” Venice’s voice muffled in Heather’s chest.  


Heather pulled back to look at Venice’s face. “Why not? Ness, we have to let the police know or something.”  


“No, I don’t want to.” Venice silently begged with her eyes and Heather nodded. She didn’t know why Venice wanted to keep it to herself, but she didn’t ask.  


Instead, she laid Venice down on the bed and tucked her in. “You need to sleep. I’ll be right over here.” She sat down at the desk across the room.  


“Can you sit on the bed?” Venice asked. Heather hesitated, but couldn’t refuse. She moved over to the bed with Venice and urged her to go to sleep. Venice turned on her side, her back facing Heather, and closed her eyes.  


She could hear Heather start talking to her boss on the phone, telling her she was sick and couldn’t make it to work. The conversation lasted a couple minutes, all business talk and things Venice didn’t know about. When Heather hung up, Venice listened to her breathe, though she could barely hear it.  


“Go to sleep, Ness,” Heather said. She didn’t need to look at Venice to know she wasn’t sleeping. It was kind of ironic how she could easily tell if people were sleeping or not, despite her own sleeping problem.  


“You should sleep, too,” Venice retorted. She waited a while before adding, “I’m sorry for what I did that night, for trying to kiss you.” She felt the need to apologize, even though it felt like a lifetime ago.  


Heather was silent awhile, but Venice didn’t dare look back at her. She didn’t want to meet her eyes. “You don’t have to apologize for loving anyone.” It reminded her of her dad and his drinking problem. _Did her dad have to apologize for loving her mom?_  


“I thought you hated me. I almost didn’t call you earlier because of that.”  


“I’m glad you did.”  


——  


Once Venice was able to fall asleep, she couldn't be woken up. Heather went out a couple hours later to get them breakfast. She called Jodi to make sure she was alright. When she left New York earlier, she told her girlfriend she was heading to Boston for an emergency, but Jodi was half asleep at the time.  


“Jodi, did I wake you?” Heather sat at the coffee shop and sipped her tea. Her eyelids were drooping, but she didn't care much; it happened so often it was normal.  


“No, I just got on the subway. Where are you, by the way? You weren't in bed this morning,” Jodi noted.  


“I told you last night there was an emergency in Boston, so I took a cab up.” Heather yawned; she hadn't slept in nearly two days.  


“What happened?”  


“Ness was worried someone was following her. I wanted to make sure she was safe.”  


“So you drove all the way over there? That's fucking crazy, Heather. You could've just called her.”  


Heather shook her head. Jodi didn't get it. “I was worried.”  


“God, Heather, have you slept at all? Maybe that's why you flipped out last night.”  


Heather wanted to tell Jodi that she didn't flip out, but thought better of it. “I'll try to get some sleep later today.” They said goodbye and hung up. The conversation made Heather a little mad; Jodi didn't even care about Venice.  


Venice woke from the sound of the hotel door room shutting. “Heather?” she called out.  


“Right here.” The older woman appears from the short hallway leading into the room.  


“Did you go somewhere?” Venice sat up in the bed.  


Heather held up a brown paper bag with a muffin inside. She tossed it at Venice and placed a cup of coffee next to her. “Got some breakfast.”  


“You left the room?” Venice’s breathing shallowed as she thought of herself alone.  


“Relax, Ness. You’re okay, nothing happened.”  


It takes Venice a while to settle down and eat her breakfast. Meanwhile, Heather packs what little she took with her into her backpack. She left in a hurry after Venice called her, so she didn’t have any spare clothes, but that didn’t bother her.  


“We have to check out by noon or they’ll charge us—or me another night,” Venice says while chewing on a chunk of her blueberry muffin.  


“I checked the bus schedule; they’ll make a stop here at three, so that gives us some time to kill.”  


“Are you sure I can—you know with Jodi and all?” Venice takes a sip of her piping hot coffee. It burned her tongue.  


“Yes, of course. I’m always here for you.” Venice nods and Heather continues to pack, zipping up her bag and setting it on the bed.  


“I need to see Morgan before I go. I told her I’d see her today.”  


“Okay.”  


——  


They meet Morgan at the public library near her house, or Venice’s old house. The bus arrives in their neighborhood in a couple hours, so Venice had some time with her sister.  


“I’m going to move in with Heather.” Venice looks everywhere but at Morgan, particularly staring at one man sitting in the corner reading a book. Venice couldn’t make out the title of the book, he was covering it with his hand, but it looked old, ragged.  


“What happened to Cara? She’s a ten minute walk from me; you don’t have to move far away. How will I reach you?” Morgan stares dead into Venice’s eyes, trying to get her to look at her.  


“Call me. And Cara hates me. Did you know Bryce and his friends beat her up? Now she won’t even let me touch her.” Venice looks for Heather, but she disappeared somewhere deep in the library.  


“Oh my god, Bryce did that?” Morgan’s fists tightens in her lap. Everything about Venice’s situation was making her angry.  


“I couldn’t believe it.”  


“I can. He’s an asshole. I’ll make sure to sock him in the face later.”  


“Don’t, Morgan. It’s not worth it. I don’t want him to hurt you, too.”  


“Ness, he’s our brother. He’s not going to hurt us. I mean, he didn’t send his friends after you, did he?”  


“No, but you never know what he’ll do. He’s turning out to be a lot like Dad.” Venice didn’t quite know what ‘like Dad’ meant. She was told by her mom that her dad was an alcoholic and he cheated on her, but that wasn’t her own memory of her dad. Maybe she was too young to know at the time.  


That made Morgan freeze. She hadn’t thought about her father in years. He never wrote or called or even sent money on birthdays and holidays. She didn’t even know if he was still alive, but chances are he is because bad things only happen to good people. Morgan was beginning to realize that as she looked at Venice.  


“Mother was talking about cutting you out of everything, like all ties.”  


“I’d rather not talk about her right now.”  


“Alright, what about school? You have to at least finish high school, Ness.”  


“I know, I will. There’s no way I’m dropping out. Do you think I can enroll without Mom? Maybe Heather can do it instead?”  


“I don’t know. Maybe talk to the school about it? I’m sure they’ll let you in; they have to.”  


Venice glanced at the man in the corner and caught him looking at her. They both quickly look away and Venice leans into Morgan. “See that guy in the corner? I think he’s following me,” she whispers so the man won’t hear.  


“Ness, I think he was there when we got here.”  


“No, I swear he’s following me. Come on.” She gets up and grabs Morgan’s hand, steering her away from the man, who continued reading his book, not noticing them.  


“We need to find Heather and get out.” Venice walks past shelves, looking down each aisle for Heather.  


“Ness, you’re being ridiculous. If that man were following us, he’d have gotten up and actually followed us.” Morgan looked back to where they came from, but the man wasn’t behind them.  


“You don’t get it. They’re everywhere. See that man? He’s staring at us.” Venice discreetly points out a man from across the room. He doesn’t notice them and focuses on his daughter, who’s coloring beside him.  


“He’s not staring at us,” Morgan says, beginning to get a little worried about Venice.  


“Fuck, Morgan. I can’t explain it right now, but you have to trust me. I don’t have a good feeling about them. We just need to find Heather.” Venice continues down the aisles until she finds Heather sifting through a bookshelf.  


“We have to go now.”  


Venice doesn’t stop until she’s out of the library with Morgan and Heather on her heels, trying to keep with her pace. She stops abruptly, allowing the other two catch up to her.  


“Ness, what the hell? None of those guys were following us.” Morgan almost screams in anger, but Venice wasn’t listening to her.  


“You thought somebody was following you again?” Heather asked.  


“Again? This happened before?” Morgan looked to Heather for answers since Venice was lost in her own mind.  


“Yeah, she called me last night saying some guys were following her, but nothing happened other than that.”  


Morgan turned to Venice and grabbed her arm gently. “Why do you think people are following you?”  


“I don’t know.”  


“Was it because of the man and the woman on the bus that night we were heading to New York?” Morgan’s voice was gentle, almost inaudible in the busy street. The sound of cars and people was overwhelming in Venice’s ears.  


“No, of course not. I told you, nothing happened that night.” Venice quickly glanced at Heather, who stared back at her. “I’m fine, really.”  


They only had a couple minutes left together, so Morgan dropped it. She hugged Venice for a long time and told her to call everyday, told her she loved her and that she would send her money whenever she could. Venice almost cried; she didn’t know when she would see Morgan next, though she told her she would visit often.  


When the bus arrived, Morgan gave Heather a quick hug. She opened her mouth to say something, but didn’t know what.  


“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of her, like I promised.” Heather smiles and Morgan smiles, so Venice smiles as well.  


The driver called on them to hurry up, so Heather and Venice boarded the bus. Venice took one glance back at Morgan and waved her goodbye. It wasn’t a sad goodbye, but a promising one. And then they drove off.  


“You lied to Morgan about the man with the beard and the suit,” Heather says once they get seated.  


Venice’s face scrounges in concentration as she tries to word her sentence correctly. “I don’t think she should know.”  


“Am I the only one who knows?”  


Venice nods, looking out the window to avoid Heather’s stare.  


“Why?”  


“You’re the only one I can trust.”


	7. All Alone In My House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [TW- Death Mention. Language.]

It was just about dinner time when Venice and Heather made it back to the apartment in New York. They found Jodi cooking in the small kitchen.  


“Jodi, I didn’t realize you’d be home so early,” Heather said. She leaned on the kitchen counter for support, her lack of sleep becoming a real issue. Venice insisted she take a nap on the four hour bus ride, but Heather couldn’t sleep. She noticed Heather’s steps wobble as she walked, as if she’d pass out at any moment, but she didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. After being so generous as to let her live in her apartment, Venice couldn’t make any demands.  


“I didn’t know when you were coming back, so I cooked dinner just in case. Hi, Venice, are you staying over again?” She nodded to the suitcase blocking the entire hallway.  


“Hi, I—uh—think so.” Venice was paralyzed in Jodi’s presence, thinking back to when she kissed Heather. It seemed like ages ago.  


“She’s moving in with us,” Heather inserted.  


“You mean permanently?”  


“I don’t know. Maybe for a long time.” Heather grabbed the suitcase and slowly carried it across the living room, leaving it next to the couch.  


“Heather, can I speak to you in the bedroom?”  


Venice watched as they both disappeared from sight. Once the door shut, she could hear faint whispers through the wall. They were arguing about Venice staying over. The whispers gradually grew louder and louder into harsh comments.  


Venice felt bad for coming now. She was only ruining Heather’s relationship even more. She stared at the stove with the boiling soup as she listened in on their conversation.  


“You didn’t even think to let me know before you brought her here? We don’t even have enough room for her, Heather.” Jodi’s voice was distinct, mainly because it was high-pitched, the kind of high-pitched that hurt Venice’s ears if she listened too long.  


“I’m sorry. I just thought she could take the couch; there’s plenty of space.” Heather’s voice was softer, gentler, maybe because she was tired.  


“You never tell me what the hell you’re doing anymore. I mean, how do you think I felt when I woke up this morning and you weren’t there?” Jodi’s harsh tone became a deadly whimper, as if she was on the verge of tears.  


“I told you I had to leave immediately. It was an emergency.”  


“You left in the middle of the fucking night, Heather!” If she wasn’t crying before, she definitely was now. “What happened? What was so important last night?” Venice listens to Jodi sob loudly. She didn’t think Jodi cared that she could hear her anymore. The soup was boiling like mad now, so Venice turned the stove off; it was the least she could do.  


“Her fucking mother abandoned her, Jodi! I wasn’t about to leave her on the fucking street. She thought some guys were following her, so I went to get her.” Venice never heard Heather scream before, and she decided she didn’t like it. She didn’t want Heather to be mad, but she didn’t care too much about it now. She scoffed loud, but not loud enough to hear through the wall. She couldn’t believe Heather was telling Jodi about her, exploiting her. She didn’t want anybody to know about what happened yesterday.  


She listened to Jodi sob and wondered if Heather was crying, too. Then there was a crash, like something hitting the wall.  


“Fuck, Heather!” Jodi screams.  


Venice wanted to barge in the room and see what happened, but kept still. After causing all this ruckus, she didn’t want to intrude in their argument as well.  


“Go to sleep, or you’re going to collapse,” Jodi says, a little less angry now.  


“I’m fine, just a little dizzy,” Heather replies shakily. Venice figured Heather must’ve fell or blacked out for a few seconds or something. She wondered why Heather never slept.  


“Just fucking listen to me this once, okay? Here, take one and go to bed. I’ll make sure Venice is settled in.”  


“Thank you.” Heather sounded defeated.  


Venice could hear Heather open a pill bottle, assuming it’s her sleeping drugs, and then the lights clicking off.  


Jodi came out of the room and smiled as best as she could to Venice. “I’m sorry. Give me a minute to get freshened up and I’ll get you some dinner.” She hurried into the bathroom and turned on the faucet, washing the dried tears off her face.  


Venice didn't move until Jodi came back. She fixed up some soup and the two of them ate in silence. Jodi knew Venice heard everything she and Heather had said in the bedroom, but it didn't really matter anymore.  


“I'm going to break up with Heather,” she says out of nowhere.  


Venice stops eating and looks up at her for the first time since she came out of the bedroom. “What? No, you can't do that. You guys just had a small fight, that's all. You can fix it, right?”  


Jodi wondered why Venice was so invested in her and Heather’s relationship. “You can't fix everything.” Her voice was filled with sadness, with something Venice recognized all too well. It was in her mother’s voice for weeks after she divorced her father, even before they divorced. It was in that young woman’s voice right before the bearded man slit her throat. It was in Cara’s voice the night she and Venice broke up. Venice was sick of hearing it.  


They were silent again after that. When it was late, Venice got cozy on the couch, though it wasn't nearly as soft and fluffy as her bed. She missed it a lot. Jodi came to check up on her and clicked out the lights for her.  


“What makes you know?” Venice called into the dark, just before Jodi left.  


“Know what?”  


She could barely see Jodi’s frame in the faint light from the bedroom. “Know that you want to leave Heather?”  


It took awhile for Jodi to answer, trying to figure out how she should word it. She didn't want Venice to get the idea that all relationships were bad. “You just know. You think about what you liked about her in the first place and about how you don't really like that anymore. Everything disappears and she’s not special anymore.”  


That confused Venice because she couldn't imagine not liking Heather, couldn't imagine a day where Heather wasn't special to her.  


“I never felt that, though I've been with a few people.” She thought of Jack and Cara and a few other people she’s dated, but she never felt the loss of connection that Jodi was talking about.  


“Maybe you're not with the right people.”  


——  


The next morning Jodi left the house before Venice had woken up. Venice was tired and a heavy sleeper, so it took a lot to wake her up. When she finally woke, she found Heather at her desk across the room working on something.  


“Morning, what time is it?” Venice yawned sleepily.  


Heather turned around and looked at Venice with a hint of a smile. Her hair was knotted in a loose bun on top of her head; it reminded Venice of the first time she saw Heather. Though it was different now: Heather slouched a little and her eyes looked more tired, more dark. “Morning. It’s almost noon. There’s some food and coffee on the counter if you’re hungry. How did you sleep? I know the couch can be a little cramped.”  


“It was fine, better than outside at least.”  


“I’m looking into getting you a bed, something small we can put out here.” Heather motioned to an empty area of the living room, though there certainly wasn’t enough space for a bed there. Jodi was right: the apartment was too small for the three of them.  


Venice thought about what Jodi told her last night, about her leaving Heather. She wanted to tell Heather that but felt it wasn’t her place to, and she got the idea that Heather knew it was coming already. She wondered if Jodi was going to move out of the apartment, or if Heather would, or if they would just continue living together.  


“Did you sleep last night?” Venice asked.  


“I did.”  


Venice couldn’t tell if Heather actually slept or if she said that so Venice wouldn’t worry, but she didn’t feel like asking about it. So, she got up and went to the bathroom to freshen up. When Venice returned, she got some food and sat on the couch as she ate. She watched Heather work with her back turned toward her. She looked beautiful; Venice wanted to tell her that.  


“Do you draw still?”  


“Yes, whenever I need to calm down or get away from life for a bit.” Heather didn’t turn back to look at Venice. She just continued writing whatever she was writing.  


Everything seemed different now, not just the way that Heather looked but the way that she held herself. Maybe it was because Venice heard Heather scream for the first time or because she saw Heather all the time now or because she realized that Heather wasn't who she thought she was. Whatever it was, she was different.  


“Do you want to go out somewhere?” Heather called, disrupting her thoughts.  


“Don't you have work?”  


“Took the day off. Jodi’s request.”  


“Do you do what Jodi tells you to do?” Venice regretted the question as soon as it left her mouth. “Never mind, don't answer that. I'm sorry,” she quickly added.  


Heather didn't say anything, and it made Venice feel guilty. She kicked herself for asking. She couldn't sit there anymore, so she got up.  


“I think I'll go out.”  


Heather stood up as well. “Where do you want to go?”  


“I'd rather be alone, if you don't mind.” Venice actually preferred she not be alone, but she didn't want to be around Heather either.  


She walked down the street, getting further and further away from the apartment. These streets were new to her, but she continued to walk around, mindlessly exploring. There wasn't any particular place that Venice wanted to go, so she slipped into a bookstore. She had fifty dollars from the money that Morgan gave her, the rest was stored in her suitcase at Heather’s apartment.  


She looked through the bookshelves in the classics section, though she never read any of them. She recognized a few books that she had been assigned to read in English class, but she didn't know what they were about.  


A man walked up beside her and started looking through the books on the shelves. He picked up _Brave New World_ and stared at it. Venice got the feeling he was looking at her, so she grabbed a random book off the shelf and sat down at the nearest table.  


There was already a girl sitting across from her. “Do you mind?” Venice asked, though she was already sitting.  


“Go ahead.” The other girl didn’t even look up at Venice. She was lost in a book Venice couldn’t read the title of. Her face was down, looking at the book on the table, so Venice could only see the top of her head, but Venice knew she was pretty. Not like Heather, but like herself. The girl’s hair was tied back into a tight bun, but it didn’t tug at the skin of her face; it was perfect.  


Venice turned around to find the _Brave New World_ man, but he was gone. She turned back to the girl, who seemed a little annoyed with her. She looked at the book she had in her hand. _Catch 22._ She had never heard of it before.  


She couldn’t keep her eyes on the book for more than five seconds before looking around for the _Brave New World_ man. He was clearly gone, but that didn’t stop Venice from looking.  


“Can you stop moving? I can’t concentrate,” the other girl said, though not in a mean way. It was more of a suggestion.  


“Sorry.” Venice tried to stay steady and looked at the book. She didn’t have any interest in it, though. “Do you see a man with blonde hair, really stubby shoulders, holding a copy of _Brave New World_?” Venice leaned over the table to whisper, thinking the man was listening to her.  


The other girl looked up for the first time. She didn’t really stand out to Venice, like she wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous. If the girl were in a crowd, Venice would’ve never noticed her, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t beautiful.  


She looked around at her surroundings quickly and shook her head. “No. Are you waiting for someone?”  


Venice hesitated, not sure if she wanted to answer the question.  


“Alright, don’t answer me.”  


The girl was about to go back to her book until Venice said, “No, I’m not. I just saw him, but he disappeared. What are you reading?”  


“ _The Great Gatsby._ ”  


“Do you like it—classics, I mean?”  


“Not really my style, but this is my favorite book. How about you?”  


“I don’t read.”  


“You do realize you’re at a bookstore, right?” The girl laughs and Venice smiles as well.  


“I didn’t know where else I could go.”  


“Where else you could go? It’s New York, you can do anything here.” The girl closed her book now. The small copy of _The Great Gatsby_ looked a little worn down, as if it had been folded back and forth a million times.  


“Do you want to get ice cream with me?” Venice said it blunt and out of nowhere but she didn’t care, she just wanted to be around someone safe.  


The girl looked around the store as if she were trying to find somebody. Once she scanned the room, she nodded, stuffing the book into her backpack.  


They walked the crowded streets of New York and Venice told the girl she just moved here, though she didn’t mention why she moved, not her mother or her brother or anyone she knew back in Boston except Morgan. She found out the girl’s name was Jaime Reyes, and she knew New York like the back of her hand. She offered to take Venice to the best ice cream shop in the city, but it took half an hour to get there. So they sat on the subway, waiting for their stop half an hour away.  


“Have you lived here your whole life?” Venice asked. They were sitting side by side, though it wasn’t too crowded in the subway.  


“Yeah. Sometimes I wish I could leave the city and never come back, you know? Like move to some suburban town in California or live off the land. That would be nice. But you can’t really do that in this world.” Jaime grabbed Venice’s hand and played with it, not in a hand-holding kind of way but in a bored kind of way.  


“Why not? I mean, you can do anything, right?” Venice watched both their hands sadly.  


Jaime laughed sarcastically. “You’re funny. You can’t survive living off the land; how will you find food? All the animals are being fattened up in butcher houses and everything has to do with money now. There’s nothing good.”  


——  


“Heather?” Jodi called once she entered the apartment. She shut the door and went to the kitchen. There was a beer bottle opened and halfway finished, but it looks to have been sitting untouched for hours.  


There was no answer, so Jodi checked the living room and the bedroom, but Heather was nowhere to be found. She checked the bathroom last and found Heather standing in front of the mirror with earbuds on. The music playing was so loud Jodi could hear it from where she stood.  


Heather was staring intently at herself in front of the mirror with a sketchpad and a pencil. The floor was littered with crumpled papers and eraser shavings. When she noticed Jodi, she took off her earphones, but continued to sketch and re-sketch herself.  


“What are you doing?” Jodi asked, a little scared. Heather was too focused to hear her. She grunted, frustrated, and erased a large portion of the drawing, leaving only half of her face. The page ripped as she erased and she grunted again, louder this time. She crumpled the paper and threw it across the room with the rest before starting a new one.  


“Heather, I think you should take a break and start again when you’re feeling a little better.”  


“I’m feeling fine.”  


“How long have you been standing here?”  


“Been here since morning.”  


“That’s like five or so hours. God, Heather.” Jodi grabbed Heather’s arm, but she shrugged her away.  


“I need to get it right.”  


“Heather, we need to talk. Maybe you should grab your beer and sit down or something.” Jodi’s voice was all serious and Heather knew what was going to happen. She set down her sketchbook in the sink to come back to and lead the way to kitchen, where her room-temperature beer sat.  


She took a swig of beer, despite the dizzy feeling it gave her when it mixed with the sleeping pills. She bent over the counter and looked over at Jodi, who stood just on the other side of the counter.  


“You want a beer?” Heather offered, but Jodi shook her head no.  


“Heather, I don’t want to do this anymore. I think yesterday was the last straw.” Heather nods as Jodi speaks. “I mean, you left in the middle of the night off to find some kid you used to live by. And it’s not just that; it’s that we never do anything together anymore. You’re always busy at work, and when you’re home you’re still working. I know your job is important to you, but you’re letting it consume you and I can’t live with that anymore.”  


“Okay.” Heather’s voice is monotone, as if she couldn’t care less of what Jodi was saying. She wasn’t thinking about that, she was thinking about the unfinished sketch that sat in the bathroom sink.  


“Whatever. I’m going to stay with my friend for a couple days. We can talk about what we want to do with the apartment later.” Jodi doesn’t wait for Heather’s reply and goes to pack a bag. She packs and leaves as quickly as she came.  


Heather waits until she’s out the door. Then she returns to the bathroom and begins drawing again.


	8. You Turned Me Into My Best

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [TW- Death Mention. Alcohol. Language.]

[Seventeen Years Old.]  


Venice turned seventeen in July. She and Heather celebrated by going out for dinner, though it wasn’t too fancy because Heather didn’t have a lot of money. But Venice didn’t mind because she never had a lot of money anyway. She had been receiving money from Morgan, but they haven’t seen each other since Venice moved to New York.  


Now it was just Venice and Heather. Heather and Jodi agreed that Heather would take the apartment and continue to pay rent on her own, mainly because Venice was living there as well and Jodi didn’t want to force her to move with Heather. Even though it was a small apartment, it was difficult for Heather to maintain the rent. Venice offered to get a job and even applied for some openings, but none hired her for the time being. So she used the money Morgan gave her to help pay for food and rent.  


After Jodi moved out, Venice worried that Heather would break. She had found Heather in the bathroom trying to draw herself that day. Venice told her to go to bed, but she wouldn’t listen. So Venice left her alone. And the next morning, Venice found Heather sound asleep in bed with a perfect sketch of herself on the notebook lying next to her.  


Heather never cried over Jodi, not that Venice saw anyway. Venice thought maybe Heather was like herself, maybe Heather never thought Jodi was special.  


Venice sat in Jaime’s room, on her bed, thinking back to that night when she first heard Heather scream at Jodi, when she first heard them argue. She didn’t know why she was thinking about it, but she was.  


Jaime laid next to Venice on her bed and read _The Great Gatsby_ again. Venice counted her read that book seven times since they met. Venice paid no attention to the other girl and continued to stare up at the ceiling and think about Heather.  


“Do you believe in god?” Venice asked.  


“Like follow a religion?”  


“No—or maybe. I mean, do you think there is some higher being out there watching over everybody?”  


“No. What about you?”  


“I don’t know. My mom was very religious, but I never was. It was never really my thing, but I didn’t hate it, never had anything against it.”  


“Do you have something against it now?” Jaime closed her book and turned on her side to face Venice.  


“No. I just wanted to know what you thought.”  


“You said your mother was religious; you never mention her,” Jaime noted, grabbing Venice’s hand the way she did in the subway on the the day they met, they way she always did now.  


“I’d rather not talk about her. Hey, school is starting soon and I was thinking that we go on a small trip out to the woods, you know? Like camping. I remember you telling me you wished you could live off the land and all that.” Venice said to steer the conversation away from her family back in Boston.  


“I don’t know.”  


“C’mon, it’ll be fun. Just you and me. What do you say?”  


“Alright. When?”  


Venice squeezed Jaime’s hand in excitement. “Tonight! Pack a bag and meet me at my apartment later.”  


Venice was so excited that she didn’t care about walking home alone. She left Jaime to pack while she went to grab her things as well. Venice had to take a subway to get back from Jaime’s house, but she didn’t mind. She didn’t even notice anyone around her as she made a mental list of things to pack.  


Heather was at her desk when she returned home. She was working on her case, and had even been promoted. Now she helped her boss, Ms. Estrada, defend clients with some other people. She didn’t just get coffee and lunch for her, she got case files and found evidence to defend people. It was amazing. Heather knew she wasn’t the head of the case, but it was a work in progress.  


“Jaime and I are going camping tonight,” Venice said from the kitchen. She grabbed some chips and began munching on them.  


“Tonight? That’s really short notice. Were you ever planning on telling me this?” Heather turned around to face Venice, but didn’t get up.  


“Sorry, we just decided on it. Can I go?”  


Heather was never harsh on Venice. Though she was practically a mother to Venice she never felt like one, so she let Venice go. “Just be safe and don’t get lost. Where are you going to stay?”  


Venice explained as she packed her clothes. She had a bed in the living room now since Heather was occupying the only bedroom. Heather didn’t want her to continue sleeping on the couch once she figured this was going to be permanent, so she bought a twin-sized bed. At first, Venice found it difficult to sleep out in the living room with all the space and darkness, but she grew used to it, even liked it.  


Heather yawned and took a sip of her tea. She hugged Venice before she left and told her to call when they arrived. Venice liked that Heather was so laid back, she didn’t bother much about what Venice did. Her mother would’ve disapproved, told her she was too young to go out alone, but that didn’t matter now because she didn’t have a mother anymore; she had Heather.  


“Maybe we shouldn’t go. I think it’s going to rain tomorrow.” Jaime sits uneasily on the subway bench. They had a few stops to go until their stop.  


Venice sat with her backpack on the floor in between her legs. She didn’t bring too much because they were only staying a couple days. “Good. If it rains, we’ll get a nice shower,” she jokes.  


“No, I think we should turn back. Go home. You can just sleep over at my house.” Jaime turns to Venice and takes her hand.  


“What’s wrong? I thought you wanted to get out of the city. That’s what you said, right?”  


“Well, yeah.”  


The sun was setting by the time they arrived. Jaime was still uneasy about the idea of staying alone in the wilderness, but she followed Venice anyway. They went to a camping park, so there were other tents occupying the area, not exactly what Jaime meant when she said live off the land but she went with it. Venice brought her to a small space surrounded by trees off the side of the lake that blocked off the view of other campers, though they could still hear the chatter through the trees.  


In the little time they had, they set up their tent, which was much harder than Venice thought it would be. Jaime showed her how to do it; she had done it a million times when her father used to take her camping.  


“You never told me your father took you camping,” Venice said once they settled down. They got a fire going in the little clay box built for bonfires and waited as the sun went down.  


“Yeah, he taught me everything there is to know about it. But we don’t go anymore.” The loudness of the other campers was irritating Jaime, but she didn’t mention it. She remember her father used to take her to a secret spot in the camping park, but she forgot where it was. It was so long ago.  


Venice nodded. She met Jaime’s father a couple times. He was in a wheelchair, got into a car accident a couple years ago and was paralyzed from the waist down, but he was a good man. He was always so nice and welcoming to Venice. It made Venice wish her father was still with her.  


She checked the time. 8:05. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to go camping after all. She wondered what Heather was doing, probably working. She did that a lot, though it never bothered Venice that much. She was working hard for what she wanted. Venice couldn’t hate her for that.  


“What about your father?” Jaime asked once the silence became unbearable. It was completely dark now and only the fire kept it from becoming pitch black. The sound of the other campers died down a little and Jaime could hear the water rushing from the river beside them. It was nice.  


“I don’t know.”  


“You didn’t know your father?”  


“He left when I was young. I don’t know much about him.” Venice knew he was an alcoholic and that he slept around, but she didn’t like to think about it. She didn’t want to remember her father that way.  


“I just stay with Heather now. She and Morgan are really my only family.”  


“And me.” Jaime smiles and grabs Venice’s hand, holding it in her lap. “I’ll always be your family.”  


——  


Heather went out to a bar after Venice left. It was the first time she went to one in months; it was the first time she left the house for something other than work in months. She didn’t mind that she worked a lot, it gave her something to do when she couldn’t sleep. And she was trying to impress Ms. Estrada. She wanted to be the lead lawyer in her own case. That was the goal.  


The bar was fairly crowded. There were people sitting all along the counter, so she got a beer and took a seat at one of the tables in the center of the room. It was a small bar with only a few tables and a little empty space for drunks to dance, though nobody was dancing. The song playing wasn’t a song anyone could dance to anyway.  


Heather had her sketchbook with her along with the beer. She almost took her case files instead of the sketchbook, but decided she needed a break from work. She took a sip of her beer and opened the book to a fresh page.  


The pencil shook in her hand. She couldn’t bring herself to draw anybody, not because there was no one to draw but because she was afraid to. The last time she drew was the day she and Jodi broke up, the day she kept drawing and redrawing herself in the mirror.  


She took another swig from the bottle and stared back at the paper. The song in the bar changed into something a little more upbeat and one drunk girl got up and began dancing. Heather watched her dance. She was alone, but she didn’t care. She danced like she was the only one in the room.  


The guy from the table next to Heather whistled. “Come dance for me, baby!” The girl ignored him and continued to dance on her own.  


Heather took another sip of her beer and began drawing slowly. She drew the dancing girl, even though she kept moving. Heather noticed the girl’s long, slender legs and the smile plastered on her face. She emphasized them in the sketch.  


The girl sat back down before Heather could finish her drawing. The girl on the paper had a full body, but was missing the details. Her face wasn’t quite right and the proportions were a little off.  


“Hey, sit with me, sexy!” The man from before calls out to the dancing girl, but she continues to ignore him. His friend, just as drunk, laughs and punches him in the arm.  


The dancing girl gets up to leave and the man yells something else at her. She gives him the middle finger and tells him to fuck off before exiting. He and his friend get up as well and leave the bar, following the dancing girl.  


Heather sat there for a while, hesitating. She stared at the drawing of the girl, with her smudged face and misshapen body. Then she paid her bill and left.  


She followed the men following the dancing girl and thought about Venice and how she followed the bearded man who followed the young woman. She thought about how Venice watched that man kill the woman and how scared Venice must’ve been. She didn’t want the dancing girl to end up like the other young woman.  


So she ran up to her and walked next to her. She told the dancing girl that the two men from the bar were following her. And she walked her home.  


“Come inside,” the girl offers. Her words slur together and she leans on the door to keep from swaying back and forth.  


“It’s alright. I need to get home.”  


“Just wait until those guys leave. I don’t want them to follow you either,” she insists.  


Heather enters her house and follows her to the living room. It’s not big, almost the same size as Heather’s apartment. There were pictures and artwork hung up all through the place. There were notebooks and paperwork scattered along the floor. It was messy, the complete opposite of Heather’s apartment, though she didn’t mind much.  


Heather looked out the window and watched the two men stand around. “They’re just standing there,” she said to the dancing girl.  


The girl came up behind her and peeked out the window as well. “Does this happen to you often?” she asks Heather.  


“No, never. But I know someone who’s been through something similar.”  


The girl pulls Heather’s hand down to close the curtains. “Might need to spend the night.”  


“Oh, that's not necessary. I think I'll be fine. I only had one drink, I'm not even buzzed. I'm sure I can make it home fine.” Heather gathers her notebook from the couch and begins walking back to the front door. She didn't want to intrude in the girl’s home and she had work early the next morning.  


“Please stay. You made sure I got home safe and I want to do the same for you.”  


Heather nodded and sat on the couch. She couldn't say no to the dancing girl.  


The girl brought two glasses of water for each of them and tried to tidy up the place a little more, but only ended up making a mess.  


“Sorry,” she said. She gave up with the mess and sat next to Heather on the couch.  


“Why did you help me?” the girl whispers.  


“I know someone who saw another man follow another woman, like yourself. And the man killed that woman. I didn't want the same thing to happen to you.” Heather’s voice was booming compared to the girl’s soft whimper.  


“But you don't know me.”  


“I do now.”  


The dancing girl smiles in a drunken-lazy sort of way. Her eyes droop and her smile sags a little, but that didn't take away from her beauty.  


Heather was close to her, pushed closer by the clutter around them. The girl didn't scoot away, though. She leaned into Heather, so close that Heather could smell the alcohol in her breath. Maybe it was because Heather was a little buzzed, or maybe it was because the girl was leaning on Heather, or maybe it was because Heather watched the girl dance back at the bar—Heather didn't know why, but she kissed the dancing girl.  


And the dancing girl kissed her back, wrapping her arms around Heather and pushing her down onto the newspapers and clothes cluttered on the couch. The couch was too small to lie down on, but Heather didn't mind and the dancing girl was too drunk to notice.  


The dancing girl tore off Heather’s shirt quickly, her hands exploring every inch of Heather’s body, her fingers trailing down Heather’s stomach. Heather sighed into the girl’s mouth and let the girl touch down her body. It didn't matter that she was lying on old clothes and wrinkly newspapers, or that she was so tired she could pass out, or that she didn't even know this girl’s name. None of these things mattered as she watched the girl throw off her own shirt.  


She closed her eyes and felt the girl's lips meet her's again, felt the girl's soft fingertips dive deeper in her.  


——  


The tent let the cold in too easily. If it were raining, the girls would be completely drenched. They slept right next to each other in the large sleeping bag, trying to preserve warmth. Venice decided the trip really wasn't a good idea.  


“Jaime,” Venice whispers. The camping grounds were still noisy from their tent neighbors, but it was bearable.  


Jaime hums sleepily in response.  


“Are you awake? Did I wake you?”  


“No, you didn't wake me. Those damn drunk guys keep screaming and yelling; I can’t sleep.”  


Venice huffs out a breathy laugh. “I think this camp thing was a bad idea. Do you want to go back tomorrow?”  


“What did I fucking tell you?” she replies sarcastically.  


Venice laughs again. “You're right, okay?”  


Jaime grabs her hand and pulls it over her, hugging it with her body. Venice smiled a little and leaned into Jaime, pressing her body into Jaime’s back. Jaime shrugged her off.  


“Don't do that, you fucking lesbian.” Jaime was only joking.  


Venice pulled her arm back from Jaime and scooted away, not touching her at all.  


“Hey, c’mon, Ness. I was just joking.” Jaime turns around to face her, but Venice wouldn't look at her.  


Venice didn't feel right touching Jaime the way she touched Cara and Jack. And Heather. She never told Jaime of Cara; she didn't want to lose her only friend the way she lost her mother and her brother, and practically Morgan as well.  


——  


The bed was warmer than the couch. They moved somewhere between soft kisses and bare touches. The dancing girl’s head rested just above Heather’s breast; she was sleeping. The blanket was down to Heather’s waist and she was cold, but she didn't want to wake the girl.  


She laid there for a long time, staring at the ceiling and trying to fall asleep, but ultimately got up. The girl slept soundly and Heather covered her up with the blanket to keep her warm. She slipped back on her clothes and got out her sketchbook, determined to finish the drawing of the dancing girl.  


She didn’t know how long she drew for, too long, but the sky was still dark and she couldn’t get the complete beauty of the girl on paper accurately, so she gave up on the drawing and wandered around the girl’s apartment, though there wasn’t much to explore. The floor was cluttered with crumpled papers and old clothes; Heather had to tiptoe around them. She looked at the photos hung on the wall; they were of the dancing girl and her family. Some were with a guy, maybe her boyfriend or brother.  


Heather returned to the bed, feeling guilty for snooping around the girl’s apartment. She didn’t even know this woman, yet she felt at home here.  


“Come here,” the girl whispers lazily. She watches Heather through slits for eyes.  


“I didn’t mean to wake you.”  


“It’s okay.” She smiles sleepily and kisses Heather, peeling off her jacket once again. Heather didn’t protest against the girl, and let her strip her down just as she did a couple hours before. She kissed her and sighed when the dancing girl touched her bare stomach. Heather didn’t feel the buzz of her beer anymore and she wasn’t sure the dancing girl felt her’s either, but they smiled and kissed and laughed as if they were a couple drinks in.


	9. You Made The Suburb Life Feel Like A Paradise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [TW- Drugs. Alcohol. Language.]

Heather slept with the dancing girl’s arms wrapped around her bare body. They were under the covers this time, so it wasn't cold at all. The dancing girl woke before Heather and watched her sleep. Not in a creepy and weird way, but in a soft and comfortable way.  


She picked up Heather’s sketchbook and stared at the drawing of herself. She was faceless, but her body was slender on the paper and her hands were up in the air, carefree.  


Heather moved under her and she kissed her forehead gently.  


“Do you treat all your one night stands as lovers?” Heather’s voice was softer than she remembered. Maybe it was because she was drunk last night or maybe it was because Heather had just woken up, though it didn't matter much.  


“I don't consider this a one night stand.”  


“Then what do you consider this?”  


Heather lets the girl kiss her.  


“I've never met someone who’d go out of their way to help me.”  


Heather’s hand slides along the dancing girl’s side, feeling the curve of her body. “I don't know why they wouldn't. You're beautiful.”  


The dancing girl sighs and sits up, holding the blanket over her shivering body.  


“I have work soon,” she states.  


“Oh, shit.” Heather sits up and grabs her phone, checking the time. She was supposed to be at work an hour ago, and there are four miss calls from Ms. Estrada. She holds her phone up, signaling a phone call, and the dancing girl smiles and nods.  


“Ms. Estrada, I am so sorry. I have the copies of the transcript on my desk for the hearing. I'm sorry I got caught up in other matters. Call me when you get this.” _Shit._ She was screwed. And today of all days: the day of the hearing, which she was supposed to sit in on.  


Heather pulls on her clothes quickly as the dancing girl watches her. “I'm sorry. I'm late for work.”  


“Hearing?” the girl inquires.  


“Yes, I'm an assistant lawyer. There was a really important hearing this morning.”  


“I can drive you there.”  


Although Heather tried to stop her, the dancing girl insisted on coffee. They stopped by a coffee shop on the way to Heather’s work because there was nothing Heather could do to stop the girl from going.  


“I'll just have black tea,” Heather said to the barista.  


They waited off to the side along with everyone else in the shop. It was crowded and loud and Heather was impatient.  


“Calm down. If you're already late, there's nothing you can do about it.”  


Heather was incredulous; how could someone be so calm? This was Heather’s entire career on the line. “My boss is going to fire me.”  


“Are you often late?”  


“No.”  


“Are you not good at your job?”  


“No.”  


“Then what are you worrying about? If this is your only offense, then you've got nothing to worry about.”  


Heather sighed. “I've got everything to worry about. I gave everything for this job and a silly one night stand is going to ruin it all for me.”  


The dancing girl grabs her hand and she calmed down immediately. Something about this girl was mesmerizing, soothing.  


They grabbed their coffee and continued to the courthouse. By now the hearing would be over, but Heather seemed to relax as she held the dancing girl’s hand. _The dancing girl._ Heather didn't even know her name.  


“I'm Heather.”  


“Julie.” The girl smiles; it's warm and bright and _soft_.  


“Maybe I'll see you around?” Heather asks. She stands just outside the car, talking through the open window. Behind her, lawyers and attorneys and judges and plaintiffs and civilians rush around. It's a busy day.  


“Yeah, I'll call you sometime.” Julie holds up her phone. They had exchanged numbers earlier in the car. “We can grab a drink, or dinner.”  


Then Julie smiled that soft smile and Heather turned around. Right away she locked eyes with Ms. Estrada and she mouthed sorry and quickly walked up the steps to her.  


“I am so sorry I didn't make the hearing. Did you get the transcript?”  


“Yes. I need you to find something on Jacob Durden. His name was mentioned multiple times in the hearing, something about him is not right. It's not adding up.”  


“Who’s that?” All Heather could think about was Tyler Durden. She needs to watch _Fight Club_ again.  


“He's Patrick’s alleged therapist. But it was brought up that he's given Patrick prescriptions that he shouldn't have. I have the list of meds he prescribed, I just need you to find out what's their relationship.” Ms. Estrada hands Heather a thick stack of papers: the illegal prescription meds.  


“You want me to go talk to him?”  


“No, just follow him. Find out what he’s up to. Get me his schedule, his clients, anything pointing to evidence for the case.” She pauses, looking Heather up and down. “And take a shower. You smell of booze.”  


——  


When Venice returned home, she fell into her bed. Jaime watched her and laughed.  


“Home, sweet home!” Venice cries out.  


“Is Heather home?” Jaime peeks into Heather’s empty bedroom. There were sketches all around, on the bed, on the nightstand, on the walls. It was a stark change from when she lived with Jodi.  


“Probably not. She's got this big hearing she was supposed to go to. She probably won't be home until late, especially since she's not expecting me until tomorrow.”  


They’re silent for a while and just sit on Venice’s bed.  


“So, you know I was just joking about the whole lesbian thing last night.” Jaime couldn't stand the silence between them.  


“I don't really like it when people joke like that.”  


“Why? Are you gay or something?”  


“No!” Venice didn't know why she lied. “I mean, Heather is, and she's really important to me. I just don't feel comfortable talking about her like that; it's not an insult.”  


“Well, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you saw it as an insult.”  


“I don’t. It's just the way you said it, like calling someone stupid.”  


——  


Venice was right: Heather came home late at night. Jaime had left to go out to dinner with her family. The first day of school was two days away, and her parents wanted to take her out as her last day of freedom. Venice wished that Heather would take her out for dinner, but she knew it wasn’t going to happen. The trial for the case she’s been working on is coming to an end, which means she’s going to be constantly working. Venice never minded that Heather worked all the time, but sometimes it was a little frustrating because they never hung out anymore.  


“Sorry I didn’t come home earlier. I didn’t know you’d be home. I can grab a quick dinner for you,” Heather called from her desk. She was organizing papers or something in her bedroom; something to do with work as always.  


“No, it’s alright. I already ate.” Venice sat on Heather’s bed, watching her work. “What’d you do today? How was the hearing?”  


“I don’t know, I missed the hearing.”  


“Missed it?”  


“Yeah, I woke up late and missed it. So Ms. Estrada sent me to find evidence linking this guy named Jacob Durden to Patrick.”  


“Did you find anything?”  


“Not yet. He’s supposed to be Patrick’s therapist, but she didn’t feel right about it. She thinks Jacob’s the one who did all this.”  


“Like he framed him?”  


“No. She thinks he gave Patrick all these meds, telling him it’s for his schizophrenia, but the drugs are not psychotics. Instead of eliminating his hallucinations, they’re perpetuating them.”  


“Which made Patrick attack those women.”  


“Exactly.”  


Venice was fascinated by Heather’s work. She always kept up with what was happening in each of her cases, though she never really helped much; she didn’t know how. “So how are you going to prove it? How do you know if it’s even true?”  


“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” Heather was on her laptop, scrolling through documents that Venice couldn’t understand.  


“So how was your camping trip? You only stayed one night.” Heather didn’t turn back when she asked the question. She just continued scrolling through the documents and scribbling things on her notepad. _Scrolling, scribbling, scrolling, scribbling._  


“It was a bust. It was cold and windy and Jaime was all mad.”  


“Why?” _Scrolling._  


“I don’t know. She agreed to go with me, but when we were on the subway she started whining about it and telling me to turn back. Then, when we got there, she grabbed my hand and so I kind of hugged her in a way. Then she called me a lesbian and I got mad and she got mad.”  


“Why were you mad?” _Scribbling._  


“Because she called me a lesbian! I don’t know! Because she said it like it was a bad thing, like when you call someone stupid or racist, you know? Like it was a bad taste in her mouth.” Venice was crying, though she didn’t know why. Why was she so worked up over something that didn’t even matter? She let the tears fall down her face, not bothering to wipe them away.  


Heather turned around when Venice sniffled. She looked tired, like she hadn’t slept in days. “Oh, Ness.” She grabbed Venice’s face and wiped away the tears for her. “It’s okay. There are going to be some people who don’t agree with you and me, and that’s okay.”  


“But why is it a bad thing? Why are you a bad thing? And why am I a bad thing?” The more Venice willed for her to stop crying, the faster the tears came streaming down her face.  


“You are not a bad thing just because someone says you are. In fact, you’re good. You’re so good, Ness. Jaime just can’t see that.” Heather’s hand was wet from Venice’s tears, but it was soft.  


It took a few minutes for Venice to calm down and stop crying. She sobbed silently as Heather held her. “I just keep thinking about how all my friends left me when there was a rumor that I was gay and how they all became my friends again when I started dating Jack. I didn’t even like Jack. And then I had to keep my relationship with Cara a secret because nobody would approve. And then Bryce hit Cara when he found out about us, and he would’ve hit me too if I were home. And then I was kicked out of my own home because of Cara. And now Jaime hates me because I like girls and I don’t know what to do anymore.”  


“Ness, it’s alright.”  


“No, it’s not! Aren’t you mad about this at all? I mean, don’t you go through the exact same thing?” Venice pushed her away. Her eyes were dry and scratchy, but she didn’t care.  


“I do. I went through what you’re going through right now. I’m still going through it. And maybe it’s never going to stop, but you meet people who won’t care about any of that. And they’ll make you feel special and they’ll make you feel like you belong. And you’ll know that everything’ll be okay.” Heather reaches for her hand and squeezes it gently.  


“But you met Jodi and you were together for four years and now she’s gone.”  


“Jodi and I weren’t right together. Some things aren’t, even if they’re good. But I met you and we’ve been together for ten years and we’re both still here.”  


“That doesn’t count. We’re not dating.”  


Heather laughs. “We don’t have to be.”  


——  


The next morning Heather and Venice took the bus to Boston to visit Morgan and Heather’s family. It was the last day of Venice’s summer vacation, and Heather thought it would be a good idea to take a few days off of work and visit their hometown before Venice started her new life at her new school. Venice didn’t mind that she was coming back to the place with all the bad memories; she was more interested in seeing Morgan again.  


“Are you sure you don’t need to be at work? We don’t have to go back today,” Venice said. She’s been repeating herself ever since they got on the bus.  


“I’m sure. I already told Ms. Estrada and she’s fine with it as long as I continue looking into Durden. And anyway, it’s been awhile since I’ve seen my family, since you’ve seen Morgan. It’ll be nice before the school year.” Heather smiles reassuringly.  


Venice looks around the bus. There were several businessmen sitting in the back row, staring in her direction. “Heather, are they staring at us?” she whispers, leaning in close.  


Heather follows Venice’s gaze back to the men in suits. “No, it’s alright.”  


“Are you sure?” Venice was starting to shake. She had a bad feeling about those men.  


“I’m sure. You don’t have to worry about them, Ness.” Heather wraps her arm around Venice, pulling her in close. It always calmed Venice down and took her mind off of whatever she was stressed about. Venice closed her eyes and leaned on Heather’s shoulder. It was going to be a long ride back to Boston.  


They arrived around noon, and Morgan met them at the bus stop. She thought it was best if Venice didn’t see her house.  


“Morgan!” Venice leaped into her sister’s arms once she got off the bus.  


“Ness, it’s been so long.” Morgan’s arms were tight around Venice, but she didn’t mind. She wanted to be as close to her as possible.  


Heather left the two of them to be alone. She ventured off to find her parents, who still lived next door to Ms. Moretti. Morgan took Venice to get a sandwich at the deli, and they sat at the park while they ate. Venice missed Boston more than she thought she would. She hadn’t realized it until she sat with her sister on the cold bench looking over the familiar park. It was just like old times.  


“How have you been?” Morgan takes a bite out of her sandwich.  


“Good. It was hard at first, getting used to living without Mom and Bryce and you, but Heather was really nice and she helped me get past that. I really like New York. You should consider moving there.”  


“That might be nice. I’d like to get away from Boston for a little while, and I liked New York while I was there for college.”  


“It’s really nice there.”  


“It is.” They had both stopped eating, becoming more absorbed in their conversation. It was like reuniting with an old friend.  


“So how is everyone? Mom and Bryce? Sorry I never called,” Venice asked.  


“No, don’t worry about it, and they’re good. Nothing’s really changed since you left.”  


“Do you guys talk about me?”  


Morgan hesitated, and Venice knew it wasn’t going to be the answer she wanted to hear. Though she didn’t know which was better: if they did talk about her or not. “No. But I tried to convince Mother to let you back in—”  


“It’s okay. I don’t want to go back.” Suddenly, Venice remembered all that happened here, everything between her mother and Bryce and Cara and Jack. She didn’t miss Boston anymore.  


They were silent and continued eating their sandwich. Venice thought she ruined it between them. She didn’t hate Morgan, but being back in Boston brought a bad taste in her mouth.  


“Anyway, thanks for the money. I tried to get a job to help Heather pay for the rent, but no one would hire me. So I just used the money you sent to help out. I hope you don’t mind.”  


“What money?” Morgan looked up from her sandwich, confused.  


“The money you’ve been sending me every week.”  


“I never sent you any money other than the one I gave you before you left.”


	10. All Alone Now I Don't Feel Right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [TW- Alcohol. Blood. Language.]

Senior year wasn’t special. If anything, it was the worst year so far. Maybe it was because Venice had only been living in New York for a couple months and it was always the worst being the new kid. Everyone already knew each other; they had their close-knit friend group and Venice only knew of Jaime, who didn’t even go to the same school as her. Venice didn’t want to see Jaime anyway. She hadn’t seen her since their camping trip, and she was afraid to see her again.  


She sat on her small bed in the living room and waited for Heather to come back home. She was out with Julie for some drinks. Venice was glad that she was out; it was a nice break from work.  


She stared at the worksheet she was handed in math class. It was the first day and things were already going downhill. She considered calling Jaime to pass the time, but she wasn’t in the mood to talk about whatever happened between them.  


Instead, she took out all the envelopes she had received from “Morgan.” There were nine envelopes, all identical to each other with the name and the address and everything. Every Saturday she would come home and it would be sitting in the mailbox. There were never any checks, only cash, so there was no way of tracing it back to the owner. There was no way for her to find out who sent her the money.  


She had asked Heather about it on the bus ride back to New York, but it wasn’t her. It made Venice a little paranoid, like somebody was watching her and sending her money. What if it was the bearded man? She didn’t want to think about that.  


She studied the envelopes. She thought she must’ve looked stupid sitting there checking and rechecking the empty envelopes, looking for anything pointing to who could’ve sent it.  


Then she found what she was looking for. She rubbed her finger over the corner of an envelope where a stamp should’ve been. There was no stamp; the envelope must’ve been delivered by hand—by the person who’s been sending her money. Maybe they were all hand delivered.  


She could hear Heather and Julie walk up from outside the door. They were laughing as Heather opened the door.  


“Ness,” Heather said once she spotted her sitting patiently on her bed across the room.  


Venice looked past Heather at the other girl. She was carrying a cigarette and the smoke was collecting into their apartment. She didn’t like it when people smoked.  


“Do you mind?” she asked, gesturing to the cigarette.  


“Oh, I’m sorry.”  


“No, it’s fine. I’d just rather not smell smoke later when I’m trying to sleep.” Venice got up from her bed and walked to the front door.  


“I’m sorry. Venice, right?” The woman put out her smoke and held out her hand. Venice shook it firm like she was taught.  


Heather nodded. “Ness, this is Julie.”  


Venice watched Heather’s smile beam bright. She felt like the old parent, approving of Heather’s date. “Nice to meet you.”  


“Same to you. Heather’s said great things about you.”  


Venice thought about when Heather told Jodi about her situation, how she was kicked out by her own mother. She felt exploited then, but she didn’t care if Julie knew that about her now.  


“Are you coming in?” Venice asked, backing up to allow them to walk.  


“No, I just wanted to stop by and say hi.”  


“Are you sure? I can make some tea, or coffee, if you prefer,” Heather offered, pulling Julie’s hand toward her.  


“I shouldn’t. Maybe next time, though.” Julie smiled at Heather, forgetting all about Venice standing a few feet away.  


Venice quietly slipped out of the room, and sat in the bathroom for a while. She had no business there, and she wanted to give Heather and Julie a little space. She smiled to herself, thought Julie was good for Heather.  


When she heard the front door shut, she came out of the bathroom. Heather was in the kitchen boiling water for tea.  


“Do you want a cup?” she asked as she turned on the stove.  


“No. Julie was cool.” Venice propped herself up onto the counter, watching Heather.  


“Did you like her?”  


“Yeah.”  


Heather left the stove on and went to her room to change. Venice watched the stove, still thinking about Heather and Julie. She wished someone would smile at her the way she saw Julie smile at Heather.  


When Heather returned, Venice showed her the stampless envelope.  


“So what does that mean?” Heather busied herself turning off the stove once the water boiled, and pouring the water into a cup.  


“Come on, Heather. Aren’t you like a lawyer-in-training? Follow the dots! That means whoever’s been sending me money has been coming to our mailbox and putting in the envelope himself. That must be it, right?”  


Heather smiled. “You’re really good at figuring stuff out. Maybe you should be a lawyer, too.”  


“So, I’m going to watch our mailbox on Saturday.”  


“To see who drops off the envelope.”  


“Exactly!”  


Heather takes a sip of her tea while Venice watches, staring at the steam rising from the mug. “So how was school? Do you like it there?” Heather asks as she sifts through more documents, returning back to work. She still hasn’t found a way to prove Ms. Estrada’s theory.  


Venice looks down at the envelopes in her hands. “It was normal, like every other day of school. I don’t really know anyone, though.”  


“What? I thought by the end of the day you’d be friends with everyone, judging by how much you talk and all.” Heather laughs a little, but Venice wasn’t in the mood.  


“I feel like the rules are different here.”  


“The rules are different everywhere. Don’t worry, you’ll adapt. I know you will.”  


——  


On Saturday, Venice did as she said she would and watched the mailbox all day. Heather was out all day, trying to look up more on Jacob Durden.  


It wasn’t until two o’clock in the afternoon when Venice saw him. It was a man with a large coat and a hat covering his face. Venice couldn’t tell who it was. She held her breathe as she watched the bundled man slip an envelope into her mailbox. The envelope was identical to the ones she held in her sweaty hands. That must’ve been the man who’s been sending her money.  


She raced outside and hopped down the steps to the man before he could leave. Her hands were shaking and her heart was beating straight out of her chest, but she ignored the cry in the back of her head to run away. She ignored the feeling of danger from her gut and continued toward the man.  


“Hey!” she cried out. “Who are you?”  


The man’s back was facing her, but he wasn’t running away. He wasn’t moving at all. She grabbed the envelope from her mailbox and tore it open. There laid another fifty dollars in cash, just as always.  


“Why have you been sending me money? What do you want?” she asked.  


“I heard about you and your mother. I’m sorry she did that,” the man said, his voice muffled through the bundle of his coat.  


“How do you know her? How do you me?”  


Venice was slowly inching around the man, trying to get a look at his face, but she didn’t have to move any further. He took off his hat and lowered his coat before turning around.  


“Dad,” she stated. The word was so simple, so ordinary, yet she hadn’t spoken it in years.  


“Ness.” He smiled, quite like herself. She must’ve gotten that from him. It was something she always knew, but the thought came like a refreshing reminder.  


“Why did you give me money?” she asked, almost speechless. She wanted to hug him and hit him at the same time.  


“I wanted to make sure you were safe. I didn’t want you and Heather to end up on the street.”  


“How do you know all this? How do you know Heather and what happened and how to find me?” Venice stood there limp. It was cold and she was only wearing a thin jacket, but she didn’t want to go back in until she had answers for everything.  


“I always knew what was going on in your lives. I wanted to make sure you were all safe. You and Bryce and Morgan.”  


“So you’ve been watching us? And you never thought to actually come talk to us? You never thought that maybe we’d like to see our dad once in awhile?” Venice’s hands were balled up into fists. She wasn’t cold anymore, or at least it didn’t bother her anymore.  


“I’m sorry.”  


“Sorry? Apologies don’t mean anything when you’ve been kicked out of the house by your mother and abandoned by your father!”  


She stormed back into the apartment, leaving him standing alone. How could he leave her for so long? Venice couldn’t understand any of what he did, why he left her and why he never came back.  


When Heather returned home, she found Venice lying in her bed with dried tears.  


“What happened?” she asked, dropping her bag to the floor. She crossed the room and sat beside Venice.  


“I found out who’s been sending the money. It was my dad.”  


Heather stayed silent; she didn’t know what to say to that.  


“He kept on sending me money and he never bothered to talk to me. He’s been watching me all this time; he didn’t even try to approach me.”  


“You don’t know he didn’t try,” Heather replied softly. She stroked Venice’s hair, trying to get her to calm down.  


“How hard can it be? All he had to do was knock on the door. All he had to do was help me when my mom kicked me out, but he didn’t do any of that!” Venice sat up, throwing the covers off her body.  


“You should meet him again. Hear him out. Give him the benefit of the doubt and let him explain himself. There could be an explanation for why he did what he did.”  


Venice hugged Heather, wanting to stick to her forever. She never wanted Heather to leave her side. “Promise me you won’t leave me, not like my mom and dad.”  


Heather held her softly. “It’s okay, Ness. I promise.”  


——  


Heather left the house early the next morning. The night before she had gotten a lead on Durden and was going to investigate until she heard about Venice’s meeting with her father.  


It had hit her how easily she could've proved Durden was the culprit. She had all the receipts of the drugs he prescribed to Patrick. All she had to do was convince Patrick to testify, saying he thought the drugs were for his schizophrenia.  


“Ms. Estrada,” Heather called to her. She walked up to her boss, who stood right at the court doorway. “Just have Patrick testify.”  


“What?”  


“Just question him and have him explain that he had no idea what the drugs were doing to him,” Heather said proudly. It was so obvious, yet no one thought to try it.  


Ms. Estrada pulled Heather off to the side, into an empty corner. “We can't do that. Patrick told me he knew exactly what the drugs were doing to him.”  


“What? So does that mean he did it on purpose?”  


“Lower your voice,” Ms. Estrada hushed her. “No, he didn't mean to do it, but he took the drugs to get high. Durden was his drug dealer, in a way. Patrick wanted the high, but it also made him hallucinate and delusional.”  


“So did he know what was he was doing while he was on the drug?”  


“I don't know. He wouldn't tell me more.”  


Heather sighed in frustration. “So how are we supposed to defend him? How do we prove he’s innocent without revealing his drug deal with Durden?”  


“You need to talk to Durden. Ask him about it and make sure you come back with something substantial. The final trial is soon and we have yet to put together our case.”  


Heather sat on the subway, trying to think of how she can prove Patrick innocent. Her phone rang in her hand and she picked it up.  


“Julie, now’s not the best time to have a drink.”  


The dancing girl laughed from the other side. “That’s not what I'm calling about. I wanted to invite you to a housewarming party. I know this guy who just moved to New York and I thought you could come with me tonight.”  


“I don't know. I'm a bit busy. New evidence just surfaced from my case and I don't think I'll have time to chat tonight.”  


“Come on, Heather. Let loose and worry about your case tomorrow.”  


Heather smiled. Just hearing Julie’s voice put her at ease. “Alright.”  


——  


Venice laid on her bed and stared at the ceiling in silence. It was Sunday and she didn't know anyone in New York or anywhere she could go. Her burner phone laid on top of her stomach, but she didn't know who she could call. After her mom cut off her phone line, Heather bought her a burner. It wasn't an iPhone with unlimited texts and calls, but it was better than nothing.  


She scrolled through her contacts; there were only four numbers: Heather, Morgan, Jaime, and her old house phone. When she first got the phone, she added the house number just in case there was an emergency. But now it seemed unnecessary; she would never call there again. She deleted the contact and called Jaime instead.  


“Ness. I haven't seen you since last week,” Jaime noted. She didn't sound particularly angry.  


“I’ve been busy with school.”  


“What’s up. You wanna hang out?”  


Venice glanced around the room. She wasn't doing anything, but she didn't want to see Jaime either. “I can't today, but maybe next week. I just wanted to call and catch up.”  


They talked about school and friends and whatever popped up, though Venice got sick of talking about nothing and came up with an excuse to hang up. She laid on her bed and continued to stare at the ceiling, thinking about what Heather said about her father. _There could be an explanation for why he did what he did._ She decided she would take her advice and at least give her father a chance.  


Heather found Venice lying on her bed when she came home. That’s been happening a lot recently.  


“Did you even leave the house?” she asked as she put the groceries away.  


“No. I tried to finish my homework. Didn’t. Then I thought I’d meet Jaime, but I didn’t want to. So I just stayed home.” Venice held the television remote in her hand and flipped through the channels. There was nothing good on.  


“Julie invited me to a housewarming party. You want to come?”  


“Will there be free alcohol?”  


Heather laughed sarcastically. “Not any that you can have.”  


“Aren’t you supposed to be stressing over your case? You seem so calm; it’s unusual.”  


“I can be calm near the final trial.” She sat on the couch, defeated by the day.  


“Funny, I remember your last case you couldn’t stop talking about it. You worried so much I thought you’d go crazy. Remember when you didn’t sleep for three or four days straight, and suddenly it was two in the morning and you were screaming something about cats eating the garbage?”  


“Alright, alright! I get it,” Heather laughs out. “I don’t know. Julie makes me feel so calm, like I don’t have to care about anything at all.”  


Venice smiles. It was nice, the way that Heather was now. Venice noticed that Heather was actually getting more sleep as well. She still took the sleeping pills every night, but at least she slept every night.  


Heather’s phone rings and it’s Julie. “So are you coming or what?” she asks Venice.  


“I’ll just stay home and try to finish the rest of my work. Have fun with Julie.”  


There’s another girl and a guy in the car when Heather enters. Julie introduces them as Katie and Josh. They get acquainted as Julie drives them to the house. They all seem very laid-back, which was what Heather was expecting from all of Julie’s friends.  


The house is big and extravagant, unlike Heather’s small apartment. She wonders how much it would’ve cost to buy a house like this in New York. The music was loud and the lights were dim; it looked like a college frat party. She hadn’t been to one in years, since college in California. She thought it was best that Venice decided not to come, because this wasn’t what she was expecting at all.  


“This is some housewarming party,” she says to Julie, raising her voice to be heard over the music.  


“Tommy’s a party kind of guy. Hope you don’t mind,” Julie screams back. “I’ll get us drinks.” Then she’s disappeared into the crowd, leaving Heather alone with Josh. Somewhere between the car and the front door Katie disappeared as well.  


“Julie tells me you've got a kid,” Josh says, trying to make conversation.  


“You mean Ness? She's not my daughter; she just lives with me.”  


“Well, how did you get into a situation like that?” he laughs; it's rough and overbearing. Heather didn't like it.  


“She was kicked out of her house, so I took her in.”  


Julie returned with two cups filled to the brim with beer, one of which she handed to Heather. Heather took a gulp of her cup, though she never drank much.  


“Shit! That must've been terrible!” Josh laughs and a girl runs up to him and kisses him. Heather watches their tongue move in and out of each other’s mouths. Then Julie pulls her away from them.  


“Josh is always sticking his tongue down Sophie’s throat. Don't mind them,” she explains. “They’re like friends with benefits.” Julie smiles and laughs as if it were funny. Another guys comes up behind Julie and wraps his arms around her.  


“Julie,” he soothes and turns her around. She laughs and playfully hits him. Then he kisses her on the mouth as Heather watches. His eyes drag from Julie to Heather and breaks the kiss.  


“Who is this, Julie?” His arm snakes around Julie’s waist and Heather stares at it casually resting there.  


“Tyler, this is Heather. Heather, Tyler.”  


Tyler’s arm comes out from Julie’s waist and Heather takes his hand in hers, his rough hand leading her’s.  


“Come out and have a dance with me, Julie,” Tyler's pleads and takes her hand, pulling her away.  


“Alright, Heather hold my drink, will you?”  


Heather takes Julie’s half-empty cup and watches as she runs off with Tyler. She was speechless since she watched Julie kiss Tyler. What were they? And what was she to Julie?  


She dumped both drinks in the trash and headed to the kitchen for something stronger. Suddenly, she had a bad taste in her mouth. The kitchen was a gold mine; there was liquor of all kinds and adults of all kinds, drinking and grinding. It wasn’t her crowd.  


Heather wasn’t the type to party; she didn't know why she bothered coming in the first place. She grabbed a bottle of brandy and poured it in a new cup, mixing it with cola. Then she drank it all in one go and poured herself another cup.  


She didn't feel the effects of the alcohol until a few minutes after, when it started kicking into her system. All it took was one cup to get her drunk; she never had a high alcohol tolerance.  


Her steps wobbled and she felt a little sick, though she didn't know if she could credit that to the alcohol or the fact that she just watched Julie kiss Tyler. She made her way to the backyard, which was smaller than she expected it to be. Maybe she was just too drunk.  


From across the backyard, she could see a crowd dancing along to the music. And there was the beautiful dancing girl with Tyler. Heather wanted to grab Julie and take her away from him; she wanted her all to herself.  


She started toward the couple with her eyes fluttering, walking as straight as she could. She took another large gulp of her alcoholic mixture, feeling sicker than before. Suddenly, she remembered she had a meeting with Jacob Durden the next day. It might have to be postponed, though she was running out of time to gather evidence for her case.  


Then she was on the floor, wet from her spilt Coke and brandy, dry heaving onto the new concrete floor. And on that floor were liquids that smelled worse than anything Heather had smelled before and something red. _Blood!_ Heather thought. And then she noticed the people staring at her and they were screaming if she was okay and there was Julie by her side with a worried expression. Heather wanted her to smile; she wished Julie would smile because she was beautiful when she smiled and Heather felt that everything would be okay when she smiled. _Oh, Julie. Let me see you smile!_  


“Smile, Julie,” Heather said. And then there was nothing.


	11. If You Come Back, I Could Get To Know You Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [TW- Drugs. Alcohol. Sex. Language.]

Heather woke on her soft bed with a splitting headache. Her eyes fluttered open, staring up at the plain white ceiling. The warm blanket hugged her bare body, as she only had on her skivvies underneath.  


She sat up and held her head in her hands. “Shit.” The last thing she remembered was telling Julie to smile, with beer and vomit all over her shirt.  


“Heather.” Julie’s familiar voice came from next to her. Suddenly, Julie was sitting on the bed next to her.  


“What happened?” She felt Julie’s cold hand on her back.  


“You passed out, so I brought you back home.”  


“Where’s Ness?” Heather looked around her room; it seemed foreign to her now.  


“She's sleeping. It's pretty late.” Julie hesitated. “And she told me about these.” She held up Heather’s pill bottles and they rattled inside their cage. “What were you thinking—mixing alcohol with these?”  


“I don't know. I just saw you with Tyler and I got mad.”  


“You were jealous of Tyler?”  


Heather shrugged. “I thought you invited me as your date to a quiet housewarming with maybe a little wine and some friends, but there was all sorts of alcohol and dancing and then Tyler kissed you. It just wasn't what I was expecting.”  


“I didn't know we were dating—”  


“That's not what I meant.” Heather’s headache was getting worse.  


“Then what?”  


Heather sighed, defeated. “You're right, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed anything. I just got jealous when I saw you with him, when you're with someone who’s not me.”  


“So what are you saying?”  


“Will you be my girlfriend and only kiss me and only be with me?” Heather’s hands were clutching the blanket, quivering.  


“Yes,” Julie sighed. “Yes, of course.” She wrapped her arms around Heather and kissed her with a smile. It was soft and sweet, soft and sweet like Julie and her hands and her lips. She gently pushed her down on the bed and breathed her in, as if she couldn’t get enough.  


And all Heather could feel was soft, soft, soft.  


——  


Heather laid with Julie’s arm around her, they’re skin touching under the blanket.  


“Go to sleep,” Julie soothed. “You need to recover.”  


“I can’t without the pills,” Heather confesses. She felt vulnerable when she said it, more so than when she was unconscious in front of Julie.  


“It’s okay. Take one tonight, if you need to.” Julie’s voice in Heather’s ear was soft; it made her melt.  


A tear escaped Heather’s eyes. “Thank you.”  


——  


Venice waited on the stairs on Saturday afternoon, watching the mailbox again. She didn’t know what time her father would arrive and she didn’t want to miss him, so she sat and waited. She thought about school. The second week was better than the first; she had made some friends. Caroline was from her English class, Adam from history, Erica from math, and Maddie from physics. She didn't know them very well, but it was better than not knowing them at all.  


It wasn’t until an hour later when he showed up. This time he was dressed in a suit and tie with shiny black dress shoes and neatly combed hair. She noticed the grey hairs growing from the sides of his head; they weren’t there back in Florida.  


“Heather said I should get lunch with you, hear you out or something,” she called out from where she sat.  


Her father was just a few feet away, standing and looking up from the bottom of the small stairs. “I’d love that. Do you mind going far? I know a pretty good restaurant about thirty minutes from here.”  


They both had to stand on the crowded subway, though Venice didn’t mind because it was always crowded. She was used to it.  


Her father took her to a five star restaurant, the ones that served the smallest portions for the most outrageous prices and only had foods that Venice didn’t know how to pronounce. Venice had never been to this nice of a restaurant before; it was quite the experience.  


“I don’t know what any of these things are,” Venice noted, looking over the menu. There was soft classical music playing by a live orchestra in the background. “I didn’t expect such a nice place.”  


“I hope you like it.” He smiles. She shook, the bad feeling returning to her gut. It was the same feeling that told her to run the day she first saw him at the mailbox.  


“I can order for you if you’d like,” he offers and she nods quickly.  


He orders himself wine and her cider. She was starting to feel irritated that he was spending all this money on her.  


“Alright, I’m just going to ask you straight up: what happened? After we left Florida, we never even heard from you, and now you tell me you’ve been watching me all this time?” Venice asked.  


“I haven’t been watching you forever. Just recently. I wanted to come to you—believe me, I did. But I couldn’t risk ruining your lives. I didn’t want to just show up at the front door and pretend that everything was okay, because it wasn’t.”  


“So you thought not being there at all was better? What about when you first divorced? Did you even try to see us then?”  


“It was different then.”  


“How so?”  


“I was addicted.”  


“To alcohol.”  


“That’s right.” His voice quivered, as if he was afraid to admit it to himself even after all these years. “I drank too much and—”  


“And you slept with other women. Women who weren’t Mom,” she stated confidently. It was all she knew of the divorce after her mom told her time and time again what had happened, though she still didn’t get it. That wasn’t who her dad was, right?  


“No, that’s not true.”  


“So you weren’t seeing anyone else?”  


“I was.”  


“What?”  


“Ness, I need to tell you something. I’ve been living here in New York with another man, someone who I love very much.” He places his hand on the cloth-covered table, palm up, as if inviting Venice’s hand as well.  


“What do you mean?” She knew what he meant, but she wanted to hear him say it himself.  


“Ness, I was seeing a man, and that’s why your mother divorced me.”  


She let her guard down after that, let him in after that. They talked all throughout their lunch, which Venice enjoyed a lot. Her dad explained to her what he had ordered and how it tasted. He was careful and precise, but she didn’t mind, even liked it.  


He took her to visit his apartment, which wasn’t too far away from Heather’s apartment. It was neat inside, with photos of her father and another man hung on the walls. They were both smiling and holding hands, happy.  


“What’s his name?”  


“Malcolm.” _Alexander and Malcolm._  


“Is this the same guy from before, in Florida?” She stared at a photograph of them at Coney Island. She recognized the pier immediately; Heather took her there once. Her dad’s arm was around Malcolm’s shoulder and they both smiled at the camera, posing in front of the roller coaster.  


“Yes, we moved to New York immediately after I was divorced. It was too hard being in Florida after what happened.”  


“Did you love Mom?” She turned around, facing him.  


“I did.” He nodded sadly. “Not anymore, though. Can I, uh, hug you?”  


“Okay.”  


He approached her and wrapped his large arms around her, engulfing her. He was warm and soft and he smelled like vanilla. Venice liked vanilla.  


She wrapped her arms around him as well and felt at home. This was what she’s been missing for the past nine years.  


——  


Heather threw up twice in the past hour. Even a week after the housewarming party, her headache hadn't left her yet, but she had an appointment with Durden, so she sat on the leather couch and waited as he brought her a glass of water.  


“Here you go.” He placed the glass on the coffee table in front of her and took a seat across from her. He was well groomed, professional like the rest of his room.  


“Heather Flores, right? It's a pleasure to meet you. How’s Patrick’s case coming along? I do hope I was of help to the case before.”  


“Yes, you were. I just have a few follow up questions concerning the new evidence that came up this past hearing, about how you prescribed Patrick drugs that provoked his schizophrenia. Patrick told me he knew what the drugs were doing to him and he took them for the high, is that right?”  


“I don't know what Patrick’s intended use for those drugs were.”  


“Jacob, there’s already evidence that you sold him illegal drugs and Patrick already confessed to willingly taking them, knowing their effects. I just need you to confirm.”  


“I don't know what you want. Are you charging me?”  


“No, I'm only here to defend Patrick,” she reassured him. Maybe if he cooperated she wouldn't have such a terrible headache.  


“Alright, he took them knowing that it would worsen his hallucinations.”  


“Did Patrick try to get help from you regarding his schizophrenia?”  


“No, he only came to me for the drugs.”  


Heather took a sip of her water, hoping it would help. It didn't. “What was your intent when selling to him?”  


“Money, of course. Those pills are hard to come by, you know. And if you want, I can slip you some.”  


“Are you offering me drugs?” she asked, offended.  


“Not at all. But if you want—this is off the record, by the way.” He reaches into his blazer pocket and pulls out a small, clear bag with a single pill inside, blue like the sky. He places it in her hand.  


“I don't—”  


“Don’t bother. I’m always looking to expand my horizons.” He smiles crooked, showing his yellow teeth. “Maybe we can meet again when this is over.”  


“What is it?”  


“Think of it as paradise.”  


She leaves, feeling uneasy with the pill tucked in her pocket. She sits on the subway, heading back to the office, and calls Ms. Estrada.  


“Heather.”  


“I talked to Durden and got nothing. All he knows is that Patrick took the drugs for a good time. He doesn’t know if Patrick knew what he was doing or anything of the sort when he attacked those women.”  


“Patrick confessed.”  


“What?”  


“He confessed to knowing everything. He told me he was conscious of hurting those girls. He wasn’t hallucinating.”  


“So now what? Is it over?”  


“There’s nothing we can do now, but try to lessen his sentence. He told the judge before I heard about it.”  


Heather couldn’t believe it. All this for nothing. She sat back in the chair, her headache spreading through her veins—down her arms and legs, her chest and stomach. She closed her eyes, resting the back of her head on the cool glass. She could feel each bump and turn the subway cart made; it was making her sick. After months of slaving over the case, this was how it was going to end. _You’ve failed; you’re not a defendant if your client goes to jail._  


——  


Heather was out late “working” with Julie for company on Friday night. So Venice invited Adam from history over for dinner. She had gotten to know him a little better: he lived in New York all his life, visited practically every place on the planet, and was captain of their school’s lacrosse team. Very popular. He reminded her of Jack, because he was like every other boy in the high school. Exactly the same, exactly what Venice wanted to forget about her dad and Jaime and Bryce and her mom, everyone.  


They sat on the couch with pizza and sodas and watched a documentary on the television. It was had something to do with World War II or the Vietnam War, Venice wasn’t paying too much attention. Her mind always tuned out when it came to history or math or anything school related.  


She got up and tossed her paper plate in the trash, thankful to get away from the tv for once. She huffed out a small laugh to herself. _Never thought I’d ever be glad to get away from tv._ Adam followed her and tossed his crummy plate as well. She stood watching him as the bleak voiceover from the documentary filled the silence. _The war was often referred to as the “living room war”…_  


“Great documentary,” she said and smiled.  


He reached over her to the can of coke she was blocking. “Yeah, it’s a nice review from last year.”  


Adam was one of those popular guys with the nice hair and the toned body and the stellar grades. Well-rounded, the kind of guys that got full scholarships to play lacrosse at college. And Venice was one of those girls who looked okay and didn’t play sports and had poor grades. She was the kind of girl that guys like Adam fucked once and forgot about.  


Adam put his drink on the counter and wiped his mouth. Then they stood there awkwardly staring at each other, listening to—or hearing—the documentary drone on in the background.  


“We should go back,” she offered and led the way. She plopped onto her bed and faced the tv, though she still didn’t know what was going on.  


Before she could fix her eyes back on the television, he was on top of her, kissing her and grabbing her shirt. And she kissed him back, feeling his chapped lips against her’s. He pushed her down on the bed, rough like Jack, and climbed over her. His hands explored her body, all the places his eyes never saw before.  


Then his lips were going down her neck and her shirt was off and his shirt was off. Then she was naked and he pulled of his boxers and there was his penis, hard against her thigh. Venice’s chest was heaving up and down, wondering what she was doing, but not for long because he kissed her breast and she couldn’t think anymore.  


He was off her for just a second as he fumbled in his jean pocket for a condom. And there it was waiting for him as if he had thought in advance what they’d be doing. Of course he did. Venice did too; she denied it, but she still knew it.  


Venice watched him stand in front of her as he rolled the condom onto himself. She glanced at her own body and felt silly comparing it to his. But the thought disappeared when he was back on top of her.  


His finger slid down between her legs and massaged her as he kissed her mouth. It was as if he’d done this a million times before. Venice hadn’t, but her hands grabbed him as if she had. She felt his fingers slide inside her, coming out wet and slimy. And then he was kissing between her breast and she had her hand in his hair and he had his dick inside her and all the noise from the television was silenced by her moans and his moans.  


Her first time hurt, but she wrapped her legs around Adam and thrust her hips along with his. She gripped the mattress and clawed at his bare back, not thinking about how that must’ve hurt him. He kept slamming in and out and in and out, and she could hear the bed creak under them. And then he was going faster and she was breathing faster and she could see black spots in the corner of her eye, blocking her view of him. They grew and withdrew and grew and withdrew as quickly as his body slammed into hers.  


And she was starting to not feel the pain and her back arched and she could feel herself beginning to feel pleasure all over her body. Then Adam’s body tensed as he came inside her, thrusting slower now. And all she could hear was his moan in her ear as he orgasmed.  


Then she heard someone yelling over the creaking bed and over the dull documentary and over Adam’s deep moan. And they were both sitting up in an instant with blankets up, covering themselves.


	12. I Was In Love With You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [TW- Drugs. Death Mention. Blood. Language.]

Heather stood at the doorway with eyebrows furrowed and a deep scowl as she looked at the two butt naked teenagers on the bed. “What the fuck are you doing?”  


Adam was the first to move. He jumped off the bed, falling ass up in the process, and quickly gathered his clothes before running past Heather out the door. And Venice sat frozen still, feeling exposed in front of Heather.  


Heather took a deep breath, trying to calm down. “I’m going to drop my things off in my room, and when I come back you better be dressed.”  


It took Heather five minutes to drop off her case files and coat and documents, and also to calm down enough to talk to Venice. In that time, Venice scrambled naked around the living room, grabbing her bra and shirt and pants that had been thrown from the bed. She put on her clothes in record time and sat on her disheveled bed as she waited for Heather to come back. She wondered what she could tell her, or if it was better to keep her mouth shut. _God, why?_  


Her hands traveled down to her crotch, thinking back to what happened just a few moments ago. Had she really done that? Was it real? Or was this all a dream? She squeezed her eyes shut and told herself that when she opens them, she’ll be lying in bed and it’ll be Saturday morning and it’ll all be a dream.  


But when she opened them, there was Heather standing in front of her, and it was still Friday night and her underwear was still wet.  


“Ness,” she said, calm and collected. “I don't even know what to say to you.”  


Venice decided it was best to keep her mouth shut. She didn't want to make things worse than they already were. She hoped Heather wouldn't be too mad; she never really was whenever Venice messed up. But this was different, this was worse.  


Heather walks over to Venice to sit next to her, but thinks better of it. She takes a seat on the couch a few feet away from Venice. “I'm thinking I should put you on house arrest. No friends over to the house when I'm not home, no going out either, just school and back.”  


“Are you saying it or are you thinking it?” Venice’s voice came as a squeak compared to Heather’s. She was embarrassed; it was if she was still standing naked in front of her.  


Heather thinks, waits. Venice could tell Heather didn't want to give any punishments, but what else can you do when you find your legal “daughter” in your living room humping some guy you've never met?  


“I'm saying it. No going out. Ness, do you understand what you did?”  


“Yeah, I know exactly what I did. And what’s wrong with that? It's human nature, we were safe, what more do you want? You're starting to sound like one of those old teachers at school preaching abstinence.” Venice was getting riled up, but she didn't move Heather at all.  


“I'm not saying anything about abstinence. I just don't think you're aware of everything that's got to do with the matter.”  


“Then what?”  


“Did you both get tested for STDs? Do you know if he's ever been with another girl? Do you know anything about him?”  


“God, Heather, get off my back! I know enough about him, okay? So I slept with him! That has nothing to do with you! You're not even my mother, stop acting like it!”  


Venice wanted to run away, far from Heather. She hated her with all her heart, everything that she was. Because Heather was so beautiful that day she first saw her when she moved to Boston nine years ago. Because Heather had nice parents and a nice home and a nice girlfriend. Because Heather was the only person who would take her in after she lost her own mother. Because Heather had everything she didn't. She hated her!  


“Venice, I am your mother now! Stop pining for someone who left you, threw you out. She doesn't love you at all, not after what she did to you. Alright?” Heather wanted to tell Venice she didn't ask for this; she didn't want to be Venice’s mother or legal guardian or any of it. But she loved Venice, and so she was. She wanted to tell Venice she did all of this for her, but she didn't want her to feel any worse than she did now.  


Venice got tucked into her bed, her back facing Heather. _How can she talk about my mother like that?_  


“Ness, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that about your mother.” Heather waited for Venice to respond, but she was met with silence. “Ness.” She placed her hand on Venice’s shoulder, but it was shrugged off. “That was insensitive of me. I know how much you love her and I'm sorry, really, Ness.” She waited a little longer. “I’m going to make an appointment to get you tested tomorrow. I'll see you in the morning.” Then it was only Venice and her teary eyes and her wet underwear.  


Heather sat on her bed with her bedroom door shut. She couldn’t hear anything from the other side of the wall, from Venice. She opened the drawer of the nightstand and stared at the blue pill staring back at her. It was the pill the Jacob Durden had given her when she questioned him.  


She considered taking it, though she didn’t know what it was or what it did. Maybe it’d help her sleep, or maybe it’d help her loosen up, or maybe it’d help her forget about everything.  


Then, she shut the drawer and went to sleep.  


——  


Heather was sleeping by the end of the hour. Venice could tell somehow, so she got up and got her coat and left the house. She left everything behind, only carrying the clothes on her back. She wouldn't be gone long; she wasn't running away, just getting some fresh air.  


And, boy, was the air fresh. She trembled and held her coat close to her, but she wasn't cold. She was scared of the bearded man and the men on the dark street that night she got kicked out of her house and the _Brave New World_ man.  


She found her father’s house easily; she had memorized the address when she first visited. All the lights were out, but she knocked on the door anyway, knowing her father won't mind the time.  


“Ness, what are you doing out here? It's freezing.” Her father herds her into the house and shuts the door, engulfing her in warmth.  


“Why aren't you home? Did Heather let you wander out at night like this?” He makes her a cup of hot tea.  


“Heather doesn't know I'm here, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell her.”  


“Ness, you can’t run away from her like that.”  


Venice warmed her hands with the cup of tea. She never really drank tea, but Heather liked it. “I know. We just had a little fight. I wanted to get away for a little bit. And I only thought to come here.”  


Her father drapes his arm around her, pulling her in close. “What happened?”  


“That’s kind of between me and her,” Venice said, embarrassed by the way Heather found her just a couple hours before. “Is Malcolm home?”  


“Yeah, he’s sleeping. I’d love for you to meet him, but I don’t want to wake him.”  


“That’s okay. Maybe we can go out to lunch later. Then you can meet Heather as well.” Venice takes a sip of her tea.  


“I’d love to. Do you like living with Heather?”  


Venice thinks for a moment. “Yes, we talk a lot and I don’t feel like I have to keep anything from her, like with Mom. She tells me about her work—she’s kind of like a lawyer, and it’s really interesting and exciting.  


“She’s currently working on this case for some guy who attacked and stabbed two women awhile back. I think his name was Patrick, or something.”  


“Yeah, I read about that in an article.”  


“Yeah, she’s pretty cool.”  


They sat in silence for a long time. Venice walked around the living room, looking at all the photos of her father and Malcolm. They looked nice standing next to each other.  


“Ness, would you like to move in with Malcolm and me?”  


“No.” Venice doesn’t even think when she answers, the words just flowing out of her mouth. “I mean, I really like living with Heather; she’s the only one who was there for me when I needed her. And I know you had your reasons for leaving, but that’s not what’s really important.”  


Her father stands and sighs. “It’s okay. Anyway, it’s time for bed. I’ll make you a bed on the couch.”  


“No,” Venice sets the empty mug down on the coffee table. “I want to be back before Heather notices.”  


“It’s too late for a young girl to be out on the streets. She’ll understand when she wakes. I’ll call her,” her father urges her.  


“No, really. I’m not staying.” Venice heads for the door, bolting as quickly as she came.  


“I’ll drop you off,” her father offers, but Venice was already out the door.  


She wandered the streets, not quite ready to return home. There was a man with a small, stubby beard walking behind her, but she fought the urge to run. _He’s not following you. Calm down._ Her heart was racing and she kept looking back at the man, but she remained calm. _There’s nothing to worry about._ She wished Heather were here now, because she always knew how to calm her down.  


So she went back home as quickly as she could. Somewhere on the subway she lost the man. He was no longer following her, but her heart continued to pound in her chest. _Don’t worry about him._  


And when she returned home, she changed her clothes and climbed into bed with Heather.  


“Ness,” Heather mumbled sleepily. She felt Venice press her back into her body and wrapped an arm around her. She was so tired she had forgotten all about their fight earlier. Venice was shaking against her, so she hugged her tight.  


“What’s wrong?” She was wide awake now, remembering everything.  


Venice didn’t answer, just continued to shake. She looked at her bloody hands; they were still wet and dark, just like she saw that night with the bearded man. And then she saw the woman’s lifeless eyes again, fresh in her mind as if she had seen it just a few seconds ago. She was reliving that night.  


Heather turned her around to face her and wiped her tears. “It’s alright, Ness. You’re okay.”  


“Look, look at my hands,” Venice whispered. She held them up for Heather to see the blood stained on them.  


“No, Ness. There’s nothing there.” Heather grabbed her hands and wiped them clean. “See?”  


And just like that the blood was gone and the woman was gone and the bearded man was gone, but the feeling lingered in Venice; it never left since that night.  


“I don’t want to think about it, Heather.” Venice’s voice was nothing more than a whimper.  


“Don’t think about it. Think about your new school and your new friends. Think about—”  


“I keep thinking about Cara and Jack and Bryce and my mom and Jaime. And the bearded man, Heather, he’s always there.”  


“Then don’t think. Just go to sleep.”  


Heather held her the entire night, though Venice didn’t sleep at all. She lied awake and listened to Heather’s steady breath as she slept. She huffed out a breath. _Ironic how Heather can sleep now but I can’t._ She watched Heather; their faces just inches away from each other. _God, Heather, you’re so beautiful. I’m sorry, I don’t hate you at all._  


She wanted to cry again, not because of the bearded man but because she wanted to kiss Heather again.  


“Heather,” she said. When there was no response, she whispered, “I love you.”  


——  


Heather woke and found Venice sleeping soundly in her arms. It was already noon; it had been a long night. Heather didn’t mind that she’d slept in, even liked it.  


Venice shuffled under Heather’s arm and opened her eyes slowly. She was still a little shaken from the night before.  


“Hey, how are you?” Heather asked, sitting up.  


“I barely slept all night,” Venice confessed. She wanted Heather to know for some reason.  


“Well, go back to bed. I’ll make you some food when you wake.” Heather began to get out of bed when Venice grabbed her arm.  


“Can I tell you about it?”  


“Of course, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Heather sat back down, reaching for Venice, but Venice pulled back. She wanted to hold herself up, as if that’d help her mental state.  


“There was blood on my hands; it was that lady’s blood, the one who I saw killed by the bearded man. I knew it was her’s. Like—I don’t know—like it was my fault she died.”  


“Hey, Ness. That’s not true. You couldn’t have done anything to stop him. If you tried anything, he might’ve attacked you as well, but you’re still here.”  


“Yeah, I’m _still_ here. I should’ve at least tried to do something. That would be better than nothing.”  


“No, Ness, it wouldn’t.” Heather holds Venice’s face in her soft hands. “I wouldn’t be able to live without you. I love you, Ness.”  


Tears were welling up in Venice’s eyes. “I love you, too.” But not in the way that Heather loved her. She wanted to kiss Heather everyday and feel her soft hands on her body everyday and tear off her clothes and kiss her stomach everyday. She wanted Heather to touch her the way Adam had the night before, but that wasn’t going to happen.  


And Heather knew it as well. Venice could see her hesitate, wondering what to say next. She sat there frozen, fighting a war within herself. Does she accept Venice’s lust, betraying herself, or does she turn away?  


Venice didn’t want to force Heather to make that choice, so she got off the bed and walked out of the room, leaving Heather to her thoughts.


	13. Find A Camera, Quick, Take What You Don't Wanna Forget

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [TW- Drug Mention. Alcohol Mention. Language.]

“I don’t want to hurt her, Julie.” Heather paced Julie’s room despite the mountain of clothes on the floor. Julie laid on her bed and watched Heather pace back and forth.  


“Just tell her straight up, make everything clear. You can’t like her like that.”  


“I know, I can’t. I just don’t know how to tell her.” Heather plopped onto the bed in defeat. “I’m the only person she trusts anymore. I don’t want to ruin that. I don’t want her to be alone.”  


Julie holds Heather’s face, forcing her to look at her. “You don’t have to love her like that to make her feel loved.”  


Heather nodded, half-smiling. If it weren’t for Julie, she’d be shaking with anxiety. “You’re right, I’ll straighten everything up.”  


Julie smiled and gave Heather a quick peck on the lips.  


“I love you so much, Julie,” Heather sighed. She hadn’t thought about the words before they left her lips and almost froze when she heard them. Then Julie told her the same thing and everything was okay. She could feel Heather’s muscles relax under her arms. She was lightweight, like a feather floating with the wind.  


Heather left Julie’s house and gathered her things at the office. The case was ending soon, so she was sorting things out as a sort of conclusion. As she shuffled through hundreds of files, she felt the blue pill sit snug in her pocket.  


She looked around the office to make sure no one was around and pulled out the pill in its little, clear pouch. She could take this and forget about everything between her and Venice. Maybe that would be better.  


She shook her head. _That wouldn’t be right._ She couldn’t keep running away from Venice. So, she walked to the restroom and flushed the pill down the toilet. _Goodbye, paradise._  


——  


“I don't think we should be friends anymore.”  


Venice sat in disbelief, her mouth hanging half-open. She didn't care that Jaime was telling her this, she only cared that Jaime thought to do it over the phone, as if she was too scared to tell Venice in person.  


“Why?”  


“We just never see each other anymore and you don't make an effort to. I'm sorry, but you just really bring me down.”  


Venice hung up without saying goodbye. She wasn't mad or anything, but she couldn't stand to be around Jaime anymore. She thought back to their camping trip, when Jaime told her she'd always be her family. _What bullshit._  


Heather came through the front door, holding a thick stack of paper, and said a quick hello.  


“What are those?” Venice nodded to the papers.  


“Just more paperwork on Patrick and Durden. Basically everything about the case. The trial’s tomorrow, so I need to clean all this up.”  


“So Patrick’s really going to plead guilty?”  


Heather nods. “There’s nothing we can do about it now. Hopefully, we’ll get to lessen his sentence, make it easier on him.” She heads into her bedroom to drop off all the papers.  


Venice stared at the floor and wondered the same things Heather wondered. Four months preparing and building evidence to defend some guy Heather barely even knew, and all for nothing. What did all her work pay off?  


“Hey, Venice.” Suddenly, Heather was sitting right next to her. “We need to talk.”  


Venice laid back on her bed, trying to gain some distance between them. She didn’t feel right being so close to Heather after the other morning. “Go ahead.”  


“About yesterday morning—”  


“What about it? Is there something wrong, because I don’t see anything wrong.” Venice wiped her sweaty palms against the blanket.  


“When you said you loved me.”  


“Yeah, I do. Like a friend—that’s actually something I wanted to tell you.” Venice sat back up, wanting to look Heather in the eyes. “You said you were my mother now, because my biological mother hates me, but you’re not. At least I don’t see it that way. You’re my best friend who also happens to take care of me.”  


“Ness, that’s not what I wanted to say—”  


“I know. I’m just saying. You’re not my mother—and I’m not saying that to be mean or anything. I just wanted you to know that I don’t have a mother. I have you.” She gave a half-smile.  


“Ness, will you let me talk?”  


“Okay, okay. What did you want to say?” She pulled her knees to her chest, separating herself from Heather.  


“The night before you moved in with me, we sat outside my apartment and talked while Morgan and Jodi slept. And you told me you loved me and you kissed me—”  


“I don’t want to talk about this.”  


“We have to, Ness. You kissed me and then you apologized, and I told you that you shouldn’t apologize for loving anyone.”  


“Are you taking that back now?”  


“No, of course not. I thought you were over whatever you felt—feel for me, but apparently not.”  


“I don’t want to hear it.” Venice’s hands tightened into fists.  


“I just need to put this out there. I don’t think of you that way, Ness. I love you and I would do anything for you, but I can’t have you believing that we can be anything more than friends.”  


“Why are you telling me this? Don’t you think I already know? Heather, I’m not stupid. I know, okay?  


“Actually, I am stupid. Stupid for even thinking for a second that maybe you’d feel the same way. I mean what was I thinking? You’re with Julie! And I’m nine years younger than you. Nine years!” Venice laughs hysterically. “Maybe it’s because you’re the only one, the only person I could ever trust. Maybe it’s not my fault that I’m in love with you. Maybe it’s because of my mom and Bryce and Cara and Jack and—I don’t know—my dad and Adam!”  


“Ness—”  


“Maybe it’s because of Jaime and the fact that she just ‘friend-dumped’ me over this fucking phone!” Venice waves her phone around in her fist. “Whatever that means! Maybe it’s because you’re the only person who I could be around, who wouldn’t judge me or mock me or criticize me.”  


“Venice—”  


“Or maybe it’s none of those things. Whatever.” She looks at her feet and fiddles with the burner phone in her hands. She couldn’t bear looking at Heather.  


“Listen, it’s not your fault that any of this is happening. And it’s not because of any of those people or what they did to you. You love me, I get that, but it has nothing to do with the fact that your father abandoned you or your brother betrayed you. It’s just the way things turned out to be. And you don’t have to be ashamed of it—of who you are. I just wanted you to know that’s all there is to it.”  


Venice waited for more, but Heather was silently staring at her.  


“So you’re not mad or anything?” Venice asked, slowly letting go of her legs. They slide down, hanging off the side of the bed.  


“Why would I be mad?”  


“Because I love you and that’s disgusting.”  


“No, it’s not disgusting.”  


——  


“Alexander, it’s only brunch. We don’t have to go to such a fancy restaurant.” Heather stands at the door with Julie by her side, looking up at the cursive letters of the restaurant’s name.  


“Don’t worry, it’s on me.” Alexander ushers them inside and they all take a seat around a table.  


Venice remembers this restaurant; it was the one her father took her to when they had lunch a couple months ago, when she first let him back into her life. She liked this place. It held good memories.  


“Alex loves this restaurant. He’s taken me here about a million times already,” Malcolm laughs out and Alexander smacks his shoulder playfully.  


“A million is an exaggeration.” They exchange a quick peck on the lips and open their menus.  


“So how long have you two been together?” Julie asks, after their order was taken, to make conversation. She sips the water poured for her.  


“Almost ten years.” Malcolm holds Alexander’s hand over the table.  


Venice stares at their hands out in the open like that. _How can they flaunt their relationship like that? Aren’t they afraid of being hurt?_  


“Wow, that’s a long time. Ever thought of marriage?” Heather asks, sipping her own glass of water. She and Julie were offered a very expensive glass of wine, but they promised each other they’d stop drinking.  


“We’ve talked about it—not sure we’re ready, though.” Malcolm smiles.  


“Oh, definitely. Marriage means real commitment, something Julie’s never been good at,” Heather jokes.  


“Excuse me, I am fully capable of committing to something. Take you, for example,” Julie jokes back.  


“So how did you meet?” Venice asks, steering the conversation back to Alexander and Malcolm.  


Her father looks at his boyfriend and smiles. “Well, it was before your mother and I divorced.” He looked to her for approval.  


“I know.”  


“Okay, well, I was at a gay nightclub and I was so drunk, like more than I’d ever been before. And Malcolm came and asked me to dance, like a real gentleman. And I fell in love with him right then and there, in the middle of the dance floor as he held my hand and guided my steps.”  


“That’s so sweet. I didn’t know that.” Malcolm gives him a peck on the cheek.  


“Yeah, and then I told him I had a family and had to get back home. And he walked me all the way back to the house, and he watched as I entered the house with my wife and my three kids. Back to you, Ness,” he says to her.  


“And he didn’t complain, but he’d dance with me almost every night.”  


“Yeah, I went to that club to see you every night. And I would wait all night on the days you didn’t show up,” Malcolm adds.  


Alexander smiles and kisses his cheek softly. “I love you.”  


“I love you, too, Alex.”  


Venice looked around the table at Heather and Julie and her father and Malcolm. They were all there and they were all smiling. She wondered if any of them had ever been beaten for loving who they love, the way that Cara was beaten for liking Venice. And she wondered if they had ever cried because people like them were beaten, the way that Venice cried because Cara was beaten.  


She thought about her father and how he had married her mother, about how he wasn’t happy then and how he’s happy now with Malcolm. And then she thought about Heather and her relationship with Jodi, about how that never worked out. And then she thought about Julie and how she had learned that Julie used to sleep with a lot of people she didn’t even know, about how she used to drink until she blacked-out.  


But none of that mattered as they sat around the table. Sure, their pasts shaped who they are now, but it didn’t matter how bad they were hurt or who they lost, because they had each other now. Her father had Malcolm, Heather had Julie, and she had Heather.  


She didn’t “have” Heather the way Heather had Julie. They never kissed and touched each other the way that Venice had dreamed when she was younger, but they had something better. She and Heather shared a friendship that’s lasted nine years, one that will last for the rest of their life. She accepted it now and things were better. She was happy.  


She excused herself to the washroom and rushed over because she was close to tears and she didn’t want to cry in front of everybody. How did she go from being kicked out and abandoned by everyone she knew to having four of the best friends she’s ever known? How could she have deserved all their love?  


Heather came in quick behind her and she quickly wiped her tears away.  


“What’s going on, Ness?” Heather turns her to face her. Venice was an inch taller than her now, grown to her full size, the doctor says.  


Venice sniffs and wipes her red eyes. “It’s nothing.”  


“Clearly not.” Heather’s soft hands cup Venice’s cheek. “What’s up?”  


“I’m just really happy. I’m happy that my dad met Malcolm at a gay club. And I’m happy that Malcolm walked my drunk dad home that night. And I’m happy that Julie doesn’t drink anymore. And I’m happy that you can sleep well now. And I’m happy because I have you and I have a family now, okay?”  


Heather laughs and hugs Venice tightly. “Ness, I’m happy that I have you, too.”  


“I love you, Heather,” Venice says, not in a ‘I-want-to-kiss-you’ kind of way but in a ‘you’re-always-there-for-me-and-I-appreciate-that’ kind of way. Venice feels it deep inside her, and so does Heather.  


Then, Venice wipes her eyes and leads the both of them back out to join her family.


End file.
